


Borderline

by rebelwriter6561



Series: Borderline [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake AH Crew, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mute Vagabond, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-16 23:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 111,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: Vigilante meets morbidly depressed ex-con. Unintentional roommate arrangements just... kinda happen. But can they trust the other to watch their back?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy Disclaimer: this fic is a reflection of my own personal feelings when my blues hit. It's not meant to show accurate or healthy ways of dealing with depression or anxiety.
> 
> If you feel you can't handle what is depicted in the fic, don't read. If you feel you need help, please talk to someone. Take care of yourself.

He had to get up. He didn't want to get up. He _had_ to get up. He needed to pee, first of all, most important. And he should check what was making those banging noises. Less important. He needed to eat, but didn't really feel like it. That wasn't that important.

Ray sighed into his pillow. The air felt like it was coming from the lowest point of his body. He felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, like some jackass parked an elephant on him and left. He didn't remember the last time he bothered getting up. And honestly, he was perfectly comfortable where he was. Things were better under the blanket pile.

But he couldn't piss the bed. That was the last shred of his dignity he had left, and dammit, that mattered.

It took a few minutes but Ray mumbled and groaned his way into standing, stumbling when the room tilted. Maybe he should eat after all. His legs felt like jelly. Using the wall as support, he shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. Which was lit up. And occupied.

“Um,” Ray didn't know what to say to the blood-covered man who was looking at him in alarm. “Can you scooch? I gotta pee.”

The guy didn't blink, but he did shuffle sideways. The hand on his ribs said injury, and the blood supported that, but if Ray had to guess, it wasn't all his. He kept his eyes on Ray as he edged into the hall, like a startled predator, turning to keep his injured side away. Ray kicked the door closed after him. Not that he was pee-shy, but it was weird enough.

The dull muffled part of his brain said he was in danger, but the rest of him said not to bother. If the guy killed him then he'd be dead, and then it wouldn't matter.

Mid-business, Ray finally focused on the jacket that was dead to the right, hanging from his towel bar. Oh. Him. If Ray was in any shape to give a fuck he'd be freaking out about the fact that the most dangerous merc in the country was washing up in his bathroom, but he wasn't. So he shoved away the part of his brain that was shrieking that no one ever saw the Vagabond’s face and lived, ignored the instinct to check for weapons, and washed his hands. He let the water run afterwards, trying to wash away some of the blood in the sink.

He should be scared. He should dive for the gun under his pillow, yell and attack and call...not the police, fuck them. Maybe his landlady? She'd certainly be a match for the Vagabond. But he was tired, so damn tired, and that all required _effort_.

When he opened the door again there was a knife in his face. The Vagabond looked pissed. The knife looked like it could do a number on his internal organs. Ray couldn't bring himself to care. He ducked away from it and wandered back to his room. “Make sure you clean up when you're done,” he said over his shoulder.

Honestly, he was surprised when he wasn't immediately knifed in the back after those words. But he wasn't. Ray made it back to bed, and burritoed himself in his blankets and considered the far wall of his room. He could see the Vagabond’s shadow, lit up by the bathroom light, still standing in the hall. Probably debating whether to kill him first or finish washing up. Finally, the shadow moved back into the bathroom, and the door clicked closed.

Ray needed to eat. He needed to get his gun or something. But he was so tired and blankets were so heavy. He drifted, dimly aware at some point of the Vagabond leaving the bathroom. The shadow paused in the hall again, then shrank as he walked away.

Ray tried to focus on sleep, not the footsteps coming from the kitchen and living room area. His glasses were smushed into his face but he didn't feel like moving them. At least he didn't need to worry about the Vagabond poking around his stuff. The rest of the apartment was bare, all his games were in his bedroom and his cased-up rifle under the bed. They were the only things he sorta cared about anymore.

Thudding footsteps came closer and stopped at his bed. A takeout menu was shoved in his face. **_Wheres my shit?_** was written on it in messy handwriting.

“What shit?” Ray muttered. There was an annoyed huff over his head, where the Vagabond was obviously leaning over him to get the paper in his face. It vanished, and Ray heard a pen scratching.

The paper came back. _**This is my apartment I had guns &clothes here**_

Ray shrugged. “I don't know, man. It was empty when I got it.” Maybe not a good thing to admit, but he just didn't give a fuck.

There was an annoyed sigh, and the paper crumpled in the Vagabond’s fist. Surprisingly, he didn't leave, and it sounded like he was going through Ray's dresser. Ray listened to the thump of clothes for a minute before he decided to roll over. The Vagabond’s naked back was to him, covered in scars and a wad of bandages haphazardly stuck to his side. Still no mask. That meant Ray was dead for sure.

“Try the bottom drawer,” he eventually suggested. The Vagabond glared at him again, instead of the tag of the t-shirt he was holding. “There might be a medium there.” He thought there was anyway. Most of his shirts were smalls, and would never fit the Vagabond in a million years. The guy was seriously built, and if Ray was about to die, he'd at least take some time to enjoy the view.

Suspicious frown on his face, the Vagabond carefully dug through the bottom drawer, like he was expecting a bear trap or something. He did finally find the one medium shirt in Ray's possession, some cheap freebie from a terrible band. The frown turned judgmental.

“Look, it's what I got. Take it or leave it.” Ray rolled over again, not wanting to stare at him anymore. “Just make it fast, would ya?”

The seconds ticked heavily past. It was quiet, except for the brief sound of fabric rustling and then more silence. The heavy footsteps finally walked away, pausing just a moment by the side of the bed. Ray closed his eyes and waited for his throat to be slit. 

Instead, the lightswitch clicked. It was dark when Ray opened his eyes. And he was alone.

~*~

Ray grunted when someone shook his shoulder. His eyes blinked open, then immediately slammed shut at the bright light shining in them. “The fuck?” he whined.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed dangerously. Cracking an eye open, Ray squinted at the blurry phone being held in front of his face. He squirmed a hand out of the blankets and pulled it closer, practically pressing his nose to the screen. Without his glasses, the text finally sharpened enough to read.

**Have you moved at all since I left?**

Ray considered it. It was true he hadn't done much since the Vagabond left a while ago, but he'd definitely got out of bed once or twice. “Define move?”

The Vagabond sighed, and the phone was pulled away sharply. The hand on his arm vanished, and weight on the bed disappeared.

Ray closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He was so tired his eyeballs hurt, but sleep just hadn't been happening for what felt like days, and now when he finally had the Vagabond had to go and wake him up. Rude.

And why the hell had he come back and woken him up? There was no good reason for him to be there, especially since Ray had seen his face. He said it used to be his apartment, but shouldn't the most infamous assassin ever have better digs that some shitty downtown apartment? And Ray lived there now, paid for a year's worth of rent up front and everything. This was Ray's place, not his, unless he was back to kill him.

‘Bout time.

Ray fell asleep waiting for that to happen.

~*~

The next time he was awake, he actually had more energy, enough to get up and answer the damn door every time it buzzed. There were deliveries he had to sign for, tons of boxes full of clothes, and more stuff Ray didn't feel like investigating. He ended up shoving most of the stuff to the side of the main room without even poking through them, even though it wasn't like the Vagabond was there to stop him.

It was weird. It was like the Vagabond had just decided to move back in, like he expected Ray to just get out, and then had the nerve to not actually be there. He didn't even know if he should be mad or not. It was presumptuous, but Ray also didn't really give a shit.

It took a few days, but the next time he heard someone else in his apartment, Ray got up to investigate. He found the Vagabond standing in front of the fridge, staring into its depths. He wasn't wearing the mask or jacket, but there was no mistaking who he really was. He looked up and saw Ray, giving a slight double-take between him and the fridge. His frown grew deeper, because that seemed to be the only expression he was capable of.

“Hope you didn't expect me to have dinner ready.” Despite his joke, Ray felt very vulnerable as the Vagabond kept staring at him. He knew how he looked with all his greasy hair, so skinny his pajama pants were falling off, swamped by his hoodie with holes in the sleeves and pockets. He hadn't even bothered to grab his gun. The Vagabond could snap him in half, and had just the reputation to do so. “I don't know what you expected.”

The phone was out again. Ray waited while the Vagabond tapped quickly, then held it out for him to read. **I expected you to be gone already**.

“It's my fucking apartment,” Ray said stubbornly. “And I know you thought I'd stick around, that's why you had your shit delivered here.”

To his surprise, the Vagabond actually smiled at that, quick and sharp like a shark. It didn't make him any less intimidating. **Lucky guess**

Ray snorted at the message. So that's how it was. “Look…” he trailed off, trying to think. The Vagabond just kept staring at him. “Whatever. You're here. Fine. Just leave me out of your shit.”

He was pretty pleased with the surprised look that actually appeared on the Vagabond’s face. Turning, Ray went back to his room. He ignored his brain telling him this was a damn stupid idea, and he should do something else. Anything.

But he just couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't like he used half of his apartment when he just laid in bed all day. He couldn't even ask for rent, because that would be weird. At least with the Vagabond there, he had someone capable of disposing of his body if he kicked it, one way or another.

Ray laid in his bed, and desperately tried to ignore the sounds of the Vagabond making himself at home.

~*~

It was weird. So weird.

The most dangerous mercenary in the world, the goddamn Vagabond, the guy that even the cops and government didn't ever want to touch ‒ he was just chilling in Ray's apartment in sweatpants like it was normal.

It was so weird that it was normal. It became normal so quickly. Ray learned to tune out the sounds of the Vagabond banging around in the kitchen and the open area next to it, leaving and returning at odd times for jobs. Ray just stayed in his own room, warm in his hoodie and a pile of blankets to combat the blasting air conditioning. He listened to podcasts on his phone and music on his ancient MP3 player to try to ignore the sound of the Vagabond doing whatever the hell he was doing.

He stayed away from the other part of the apartment and carefully ignored the piles of weapons that filled the space. He only left his room for the bathroom and kitchen, occasionally the front door to get his takeout deliveries. That always put the Vagabond on edge, watching him with a barely concealed gun in his hand, like he expected an ambush at any second.

Ray knew, in the back of his mind, that he should do _something_ ‒ kick him out of call the cops or something. But that was too much work, that’d draw too much attention and it'd be seriously uncool. Aside from the knife in his face, the Vagabond hadn't fucked with him yet, and he wasn't in the mood to provoke him.

The Vagabond never spoke to him, even with his phone, whenever they crossed paths with each other in the bathroom or the kitchen. There was a lot of creepy staring, like he was expecting Ray to come to his senses and run away screaming. He never asked why Ray never left the apartment, or where the rent money came from. And Ray in turn never asked why he was hanging around some shitty apartment with a depressed punk like him.

He clearly didn't think much of Ray, or at least didn't think him capable of attacking him or alerting the authorities. Ray knew he was, but didn't want to put in the effort.

It helped that his ‘give-a-shit’ meter was broken. There were times where he was too tired to even care about himself, much less someone else. And the other guy did leave him alone, for the most part. So Ray just got used to him being around, but he just couldn't figure out why.

He was the goddamned Vagabond. A fucking legend in the underworld. The Vagabond could get any job done, no matter what it was, and killed anyone who turned on him or tried to back out of a deal. No one ever fucked with him. No one knew a damn thing about him, who he was and where he was from and why he was so ruthless.

He could kill Ray in a heartbeat. He just didn't know why he hadn't yet.

~*~

Shit. He felt like shit. His brain wasn't tuning into the podcast he was listening to, only catching disconnected phrases before they blurred away. It felt like mush, like it wasn't even filling the space in his head. Stupid fucked-up brain.

Ray hated the feeling, but he didn't know what to do about it. He felt hyper-aware and uncomfortable in his own body. Like he could feel every layer of oil on his skin, and the way his hair was sticking to itself was actually driving him nuts. Most of the time he didn't give a shit, but it was bugging him more than usual.

Shower. A shower would help. That's what normal people did when they felt like shit, they took a shower. It just took him about an hour to convince himself that it was worth the effort.

Ray rolled stiffly out of the bed, groaning when he got his feet under him. He felt nauseous. Fuck, everything hurt. Maybe he was dying. Wouldn't that be nice.

He was so out of it that he didn't even notice the bathroom door was closed until he nearly bumped into it. Only then he became aware of the noise coming from the shower, the rattle of the fan blowing. The Vagabond was in there.

That was the problem with roommates ‒ always hogging the bathroom.

Ray sunk to the floor to wait, unbothered by the griminess of the carpet. Had he ever vacuumed it? Did he even own a vacuum? Did it even fucking matter?

The answer to all of it was no.

The time slipped past Ray's tired bored mind, and finally the shower squeaked off. Ray stumbled back to his feet, ready to enter the bathroom as soon as the Vagabond left.

In hindsight, that was a bad idea.

The door opened, and Ray barely had time to register the Vagabond’s form before he was slammed into the wall. Ray gasped, heart lurching when he could barely breathe past the fist pressing into his chest, tangled in his hoodie. The Vagabond's other hand was up, ready to drive it into Ray's face, but his eyes were elsewhere, looking around frantically, scanning the hall and twisting to check Ray's room.

Ray stayed very still, not even daring to react. He could hear the Vagabond panting over the sound of his own stuttered breaths, heavy like he was in the middle of a fight. Or he was expecting one. Fuck. The Vagabond had thought he was under attack. It was his fault ‒ he’d been too close and surprised him. Ray swallowed guiltily.

The movement brought the Vagabond's attention back to him. His eyes were hard, guarded as he stared at Ray accusingly. Ray ducked his gaze away, then quickly back up when he realized the Vagabond was shirtless and _way_ too close. Goddamn.

When his eyes turned up, Ray had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. The Vagabond had his long hair up in a towel turban, like some ritzy housewife. The Vagabond noticed where his attention had turned and quickly snatched it down, so the wet strands slumped around his shoulders. His expression didn't change ‒ if anything, he looked angrier.

Damage control. “I just want a shower,” Ray said, trying to put as much innocence as he could into his voice. Not that he was worried of retaliation or something, but he'd much rather die than get beat up. Because if he was dead then he wouldn't have to deal with the growing look of understanding and guilt on the Vagabond's face.

The Vagabond released him, flipping the towel over his shoulder at the same time. He turned away, leaving Ray to stand awkwardly in the hall as he walked back to his part of the apartment. Like that hadn't just happened, like Ray didn't matter.

He didn't, not really. Ray knew that. He wasn't even worth really getting worked up over. The brief burst of adrenaline left Ray, leaving him feeling worse than when he started. Fuck the shower. It didn't matter. Ray went back to his room, wrapped himself up in the blankets, and wished he'd just disappear.

~*~

The sound of knocking on his door pulled Ray from his vegetative state. It wasn't normally closed, except when Ray returned from a visit to the kitchen or bathroom and the Vagabond happened to be in the apartment. If the Vagabond came back from a job and the door was open, Ray would just leave it open even when he randomly fell asleep. He just couldn't be fucking bothered to get up and close the door just because the weird guy was back.

Also, that felt really rude. And awkward. Like he was shutting him out, even when the Vagabond didn't usually fuck with him at all. It just felt weird.

Ray was too far buried under his blankets, and he wasn't wearing pants and didn't know where they were, so he didn't get up. “What?” he asked through the door. _Stupid_. Like the Vagabond was going to answer. “You can come in,” he offered lamely.

The Vagabond opened the door and stepped in, somehow looking more awkward that Ray felt. Like Ray, he was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, a totally casual look for a killer. His eyes skidded around the room, over the dresser that was untouched since he had rifled through it, flicking to the flat-screen that was the second-most-expensive thing Ray owned, before settling on Ray under his mountain of blankets.

The Vagabond’s mouth twisted and he held out his hand, offering something. Ray was surprised to see it was the shirt he'd stolen. He hadn't expected to get it back. “You can keep it, I don't care.” For fuck’s sake, why did he want to give it back? If he just killed Ray he'd have it anyway.

The Vagabond shook his head and dropped it on the bed when Ray didn't reach out to take it. He wouldn't meet Ray’s eyes, dropping his gaze away. The frown returned. He bent and picked up one of the leaning towers of dishes than lined the edge of his bed, giving Ray a look that could only be described as judgmental.

Now Ray was the one who was too ashamed to meet his eyes. He fell back on the bed and rolled over. It was stupid. He knew his life was a mess, and the Vagabond knew too, but damn he didn't have to make a big deal out of it.

The Vagabond left with a rattle of dishes, leaving the door open. Ray wanted to yell after him to close it, but he didn't really care. Instead, Ray pushed himself back up and investigated the shirt he'd left.

It was clean, still warm from the dryer and smelling like soap. Ray shrugged out of his hoodie and the shirt under it so he could pull the clean shirt on. It was even baggier on him ‒ the Vagabond had obviously stretched it out. It would fit him better than it ever fit Ray. That didn't stop him from running his hands over it, catching on the chipping logo, liking how soft it was after being washed.

When the hairs on Ray's arms started to rise, he quickly pulled the hoodie back on. It covered up that cheap shirt like secret, making him feel warm again. It was stupid, but it was nice. Ray had almost forgotten how good it felt.

~*~

It was rare, but he actually had good days. They could hardly be called that, but there were the days when Ray was capable of doing more than lying in bed.

One of his rare good days was spent getting caught up with the games that had came out while he was in his slump. Most he didn't bother with, but there was a fun fighting game that kept him distracted for a day or two.

Ray cursed softly when the enemy he was working on knocked him out, sending him back to the start of the level. Fucking hell. He'd been rolling until he got to that fucking boss, and now he was getting frustrated by the sheer number of times he'd failed.

He jumped when he heard a noise to his side. It was raspy and barely audible, but it was obviously a laugh. Twisting, he saw that the Vagabond was leaning on his door jam, looking quite comfortable in sweats and holding a can of Diet Coke. Without his mask and jacket, he looked so normal, like he could actually pass for some random guy on the street. Just someone who had a really really nice face, especially when he wasn't glaring like he usually was. 

Ray could only imagine how he looked to him, covered in his blankets and lit up by the blue light from the screen. Flushing, he offered him the controller. “I'd like to see you do better,” Ray snarked. 

The Vagabond surprised him by threading through the trash piles to sit by his bundled up feet, facing the screen. He offered his soda to Ray, so he traded the game controller for it. He watched as the Vagabond moved swiftly through the beginnings of the level, his shoulders settling into a slump Ray recognized. So the Vagabond was a gamer too.

Ray considered the drink in his hands. There were a lot of the sodas in the fridge these days ‒ obviously the Vagabond needed his caffeine. He thought about stealing a sip, but decided against it. It was probably poison. The Vagabond seemed like the kind of guy who would drink poison to build up immunity.

But it was more likely that he'd get his ass kicked for drinking from the Vagabond’s can.

His eyes drifted up to the Vagabond’s back. It was obviously an old shirt ‒ there were holes around the collar and stains in the pits. His long blonde hair was twisted in a messy bun, and he looked so damn relaxed for once. Normally he seemed super tense, all the time. Ray wasn't sure if he even was really relaxed, or if this was some ploy to get him to react. But that was stupid ‒ why would he bother?

Ray focused back on the screen, watching with annoyance as the Vagabond breezed through the level. He reached the boss that kept kicking Ray's ass, and managed to knock it out on the first try. “I don't fucking believe it,” he muttered darkly when the ‘Congratulations’ screen popped up.

The Vagabond turned back to him, actually smiling like he was pleased with himself. Rather than appreciate the amazing way it changed his face, Ray gave in to the grumpy frustration that had been growing for hours.

“Good job. You beat my ass at a fucking video game.” Ray shoved his soda back at him and pitched backwards, landing with a muffled thump on the bed. Face up, he scowled at the ceiling. It was stupid, he knew he shouldn't be mad about a game, mad at the guy who could kill him without a second thought. But he was.

The only noise was the sounds from the game in the background. Something prodded at Ray's foot. He kicked out, not managing to make contact. “Just fuck off,” he muttered.

He was pretty that would be the last straw for the Vagabond ‒ he imagined the other man could just grab him by the ankle and drag him down to stab at him. But it still didn't happen. The Vagabond just got up and turned off the TV. The game controller thumped on the bed next to Ray when he walked out. And Ray was left wondering what the fuck just happened.

~*~

Ray stared at the rotating bag of popcorn like it held all the secrets of the universe. It was just starting to rock with movement, steam blurring the window every time it circled past. Muffled popping noises grew in frequency as the bag grew in size. Ray stayed focused on his food, trying to ignore his own reflection looking back at him when his gaze slipped.

Something nudged his hip, jostling him out of position. The Vagabond pulled out the drawer Ray had been standing in front of, digging out another cooking utensil Ray didn't realize he owned. Whatever he was cooking smelled delicious. Ray's stomach was cramping in hunger, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in who knew how long. But that's what the popcorn was for.

His bag finished it's dance with a beep, and Ray ducked around the Vagabond to punch the button to open the microwave. He pinched it out by a corner, and was about to take it back to his room to enjoy in peace when a wooden spoon blocked his path. 

Ray stared at it, then over at the Vagabond, standing in front of something steaming on the stove. The Vagabond gestured with the spoon at the counter. Ray waited, wondering what the fuck the Vagabond was on about. The other man rolled his eyes and used the spoon to push Ray back into the corner.

“What?” Ray finally asked when the Vagabond turned back to the stove. He waited impatiently while the Vagabond wiped his hands and picked up his phone. Having conversations like this was the worst.

**Making soup. I'll have extra. Want some?**

“Is it poison?” Ray asked instinctively. The Vagabond rolled his eyes and went back to the soup, leaving Ray hovering awkwardly with his bag of popcorn. Since when had the Vagabond decided to feed him?

Ray couldn't help but perk up when the Vagabond ladled a bunch of the stuff into a mug. Despite the thick texture and blood red appearance, it was undeniably tomato soup. It warmed Ray's hands immediately when he wrapped his fingers around it and smelled fucking amazing.

“You made this? Like, you seriously made this, not just from a can and warmed up?” The Vagabond’s smile and nod were pleased, like he was proud of his work. Ray had to admit, he was impressed. His cooking skills topped at mac and cheese from a box.

It burnt his tongue when he took a sip, but Ray was surprised at how delicious the soup was. Acidic, but a thickness and taste that was so much better than the thin stuff from a can. Ray's stomach practically lept out to get more. “Oh my God,” he murmured while the Vagabond gloatingly smiled. “This is fucking amazing.” 

Ray scarfed it down in record time, scraping the insides of the mug with the spoon the Vagabond passed him. The subtle trembling in his fingers went away first, and his stomach stopped its whining. He actually felt better. It had been a while since he'd bothered to eat.

He got a second serving without needing to ask. Ray took the mug back to his room, tossing a handful of popcorn in for additional crunchies. It was so good, better than anything he'd eaten in weeks. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had something so good.

He hated to admit it, but the warm feeling that was back in his chest wasn't just from the soup.

~*~

The Vagabond was restless. This was the first time Ray was acutely aware that he'd gotten back from a job ‒ normally he'd wake up and the guy would be gone, or back, and there was no big production or announcement about either. Not like he needed to either, since Ray didn't really care where he was going or doing or anything.

But this time it was obvious, because he'd turned on every light in the apartment before touring around it like he was looking for something. He'd started in the kitchen and living space, down the hall to the bathroom, where he even opened the shower stall, before ending up at Ray's room. He stood in the doorway, staring at Ray laying on his bed, face expressionless.

Ray stared right back. This was different, definitely. Something was off about him, the way his eyes were tracking all over Ray's room then back to his face. His posture was weird too, even more tense than he usually was. It wouldn't seem out of place in the middle of a tense standoff or something, but that obviously wasn't happening. 

Finally, the Vagabond took two steps into the room, twisting to see past the dresser into the far corner. Ray didn't move, not even to tug his headphones out, even though he wasn't paying attention to the podcast anymore. After one last scan of the room, the Vagabond took a deep breath, then turned and walked out. He left the door open, and Ray watched him walk back to his area, twisting his head to look in the bathroom again. He was out of sight when he stepped into the kitchen.

Weird. If he cared, Ray would be concerned for his safety or something, but he shrugged it off. It would figure the Vagabond would have some weird days too. Fuck, Ray’d be more worried if he didn't. He was starting to see the real guy behind the Vagabond, the very weird individual who cooked and played video games and seemed to really enjoy not being bothered while he was relaxing. Just an average guy with a weird life outside of the apartment.

It was enough that he was starting to be uneasy if the Vagabond was gone for too long. Not like he was worried, more like wondering what the heck he'd been up to. And he probably would never find out, since he never left and the Vagabond wasn't exactly chatty about what he did while he was out.

Ray was thinking so hard he jumped when the dulled-out noise in his headphones abruptly cut off. His eyes snapped to his phone, and saw that the screen was dark. Fuck, he'd run out of battery and hadn't even noticed. He sighed and pulled his headphones out of his ears with a pop.

It was only then that he could hear some irregular thudding, audible even over the AC. Ray raised his head off his pillow to listen harder, trying to determine the source. It wasn't steady, just random enough to make him think he'd heard the last of it before it came again. If he didn't know better, he'd guess his weird roommate had brought someone home and was banging them or something.

But he did know better, and he was pretty confident that if the Vagabond ever brought someone back, it wouldn't be to bang. Probably something much worse.

Not that Ray had been thinking of the Vagabond and banging. Not at all.

Past the shitty plastic blinds on his windows, Ray saw light flash, and the deep thudding followed. Not the Vagabond. Just thunder. Maybe that was what was making the Vagabond freak out.

Some people might like a good rain shower and thunderstorm. Ray wasn't one of them. They made him think of cold wet rooftops, crouching under whatever shelter he could find and wondering if his gun would attract electricity. The long nights on the streets, trying to sleep without getting drenched. Or seeing lightning flash and wondering if it was really the flash of a bullet from a gun.

He didn't want to think about it. Ray struggled out of his bed, feeling hunger gnawing at his insides. Food would help him calm down. The apartment just felt so eerie in the middle of the storm. He knew the right thing to do would be to just roll over and go back to bed, but the weird energy from the storm was making him restless, just like the Vagabond was.

Ray had just put his feet on the floor when the loudest crash he'd ever heard made him yelp and dive for cover. A second later the room went dark and the air conditioner died, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

“Holy shit,” Ray breathed, almost too loudly, heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't been expecting a power outage. The storm must have been worse than he thought.

And he had no flashlight. He hadn't even thought about it, hadn't ever bothered to be prepared for this. His phone was dead too. Fucking perfect.

The other guy had to have a flashlight. If there was one thing he'd gleaned from living with him, it was that the Vagabond was a lot better at being an adult than Ray was, and he had shit prepared. There may be enough weapons to hold off a zombie apocalypse, but there were also supplies for emergencies.

Ray got to his feet, wincing when his foot landed on a fast food wrapper and it crunched loudly. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see the end of the hallway was just barely brighter, lit up periodically from flashes of lightning. He moved towards it, slowly and carefully, arms out against the walls as a guide. He was shaky and unfocused, more than usual, and he really wanted something to ground him. 

The end of the hallway darkened, as if someone had stepped in the way. Ray swallowed and kept moving forward. It should feel like a horror movie, moving around in the dark towards a killer, but he wasn't scared. He hadn't been scared of him in a long time, if ever. He wasn't sure what it was that he did feel anymore.

One hand left the wall to stretch in front of him. Ray was hoping to avoid running into the Vagabond, but that became pointless when he felt a hand close around his arm. Ray let himself be tugged forward, until he and the Vagabond were right next to each other. In the barest light from the outside, Ray could only make out his silhouette. He couldn't see his eyes, but he could feel the Vagabond looking at him. 

A suddenly bright flash confirmed it. Ray looked away, trying not to feel rattled by the look on the Vagabond’s face. It was too strong, too questioning, like he was trying to figure out what was happening. Something weird was in the air, and it wasn't just from the storm. Everything felt off.

The blinds were up on the living room windows, so Ray could see the flashing outlines of other buildings. Ray walked towards it, and the Vagabond was pulled along because he hadn't let go of Ray's arm. He towed him across the room, only stumbling slightly when he bounced off the mattress the Vagabond had in the middle of the floor. The Vagabond let go of his arm once they reached the window, and Ray was a little disappointed by the cold phantom feeling that was left.

Past the drops on the glass, the street looked half-flooded. There were dark shapes running around, only really noticeable when lightning flashed, dodging around parked cars. Looters moved fast. Ray could almost taste the humidity on the other side of the glass. This type of storm lingered, just making everything worse, until you could barely remember what it was like when it wasn't storming.

Ray could feel the weight of the Vagabond’s gaze, like an intuition he didn't know he had. He wasn't staring out the window, he was just looking at Ray. Not questioningly or judgingly, but just looking. Probably still trying to figure out what his fucking problem was. He should be scared, terrified, but he wasn't. Ray shivered, feeling the air in the room settling and growing heavy. 

“Glad I'm not out in that,” Ray said, because it felt like he needed to say something, anything, to stop the moment from feeling like something was going to happen. Barely audible over the rain, he heard glass breaking. The Vagabond finally turned his attention back out the window.

He didn't feel real. The rain, the silent killer beside him, the fact that he couldn't even be scared anymore ‒ it didn't feel right. Ray tilted his head forward so his forehead rested against the cool glass, making his glasses click when they collided. It didn't help ‒ he felt like he was floating about two feet out of his body and he didn't know what to do. He'd never felt so unreal.

Something heavy landed on his back. It surprised him, but not enough to make him jump. The Vagabond seemed just as surprised as he was, because his hand moved across his back almost awkwardly. It was too light to really make a difference, but it was enough to catch Ray's attention. He took a deep breath, then another, feeling the hand shift with his movements. He focused on the feeling, not on the thoughts that immediately jumped to mind about what the fuck was happening.

“I'm glad you're here, too,” Ray said softly. It was more than he wanted to say, more than he ever wanted to think, but he said it anyway, because not saying it would be weird. Out of the corner of his eye, briefly lit by the lightning, he saw the Vagabond smile.

~*~

Blood. Ray couldn't see shit without his glasses, but he knew what blood looked like. And the Vagabond was covered in it.

It should have been terrifying, watching the blurry version of the Vagabond walk towards him while covered in blood. But there was still no indication that he was going to kill Ray, and the Vagabond veered off into the bathroom anyway. He left the door open.

Ray knew he shouldn't be curious. But this was different ‒ the Vagabond was usually pretty good about not getting fucked up and coming back looking like a mess. Ray grabbed his phone from the nightstand and started looking up the local news, holding the screen inches from his face. The breaking news headline confirmed his suspicion ‒ a whole lot of people were dead, and when that happened, it was usually the Vagabond’s fault.

That was kinda his thing.

But it sounded like he was struggling. Ray could hear sounds of frustration coming from the bathroom ‒ and the Vagabond never made any noise, so Ray knew he was really frustrated. He grabbed his glasses and slapped them on his face as he stumbled out of the bed. The Vagabond didn't look surprised to see him appear in the doorway, but Ray froze at the sight of him.

Despite his best attempts, and ample opportunity, he hadn't had a real chance to scope out the other man's chest. He knew he was trim, anyone could see that, what with the tight shirts he liked to wear. But there were scars, more than Ray had even expected, and fresh bloody cuts on top of them. Bruises were already darkening around his ribs, and Ray winced in sympathy. Dude looked like he'd gone through hell, but he looked happy to see Ray.

“Do I even want to know?” Ray halfheartedly asked. He was already rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't even need to be asked. How fucking pathetic.

The Vagabond’s shrug and grin were off-kilter, pleased in a demented way. Probably happy that Ray was going to take care of him without bitching. He wanted to, but the fight wasn't in him today. 

The Vagabond kept his eyes on him as Ray moved into the cramped room, looking for cleanup supplies. The bathroom was a lot cleaner than he remembered it. Someone had wiped off the toothpaste splatter on the sink and mirror. It had to be the Vagabond’s work ‒ Ray never bothered. There was also a giant stash of medical supplies in the cabinets. It looked like someone had raided an ambulance or something. 

When Ray turned back around, he saw the Vagabond had gotten what was left of his shirt off, and had his phone out. A message was waiting for Ray to read. **They saw my face. They had to be dealt with**

Ray blinked at the words, then up at the Vagabond’s very obviously uncovered face. He wasn't sure if it was a threat or not. The Vagabond was staring at him expectantly, like he was daring Ray to ask why he hadn't been offed yet. And Ray did want to know, but at the same time he just didn't care.

Ray finally shrugged. “You do you,” he muttered when he stepped around the Vagabond to get at his back. There were even more slices there, ones that the Vagabond couldn't reach. He didn't know how else to react.

The wounds were deep, but the edges were fairly clean. Ray didn't want to stitch up his skin, and it didn't look necessary when the bleeding mostly stopped after he started wiping at them with a towel. Ray wasn't a fucking nurse so he really didn't have a damn clue what he was doing, but he could at least make sure he healed in one piece.

Ray got to work, sticking gauze and medical tape into place. The Vagabond’s shoulders were tight and bunched up, and Ray wondered what he was expecting. Obviously he'd been stabbed in the back once already, but did he really think Ray would go through the effort to patch him up just to hurt him again? Like he was capable of that?

If he did, that was just sad.

“There,” he said as he smoothed the last bandage down. “Pretty sure I should charge you or something. I didn't ever agree to be your fucking nurse.” Ray shoved the wrappers and bloody wipes off the counter, ignoring the Vagabond when he turned back to Ray. He especially tried to ignore the chest. The Vagabond was not the kind of person who should be allowed to walk around shirtless.

“I think you can handle the rest,” Ray mumbled to cover the hot feeling that kept growing in his chest when he looked at him. He pushed his way past him, back to his room. He half expected the Vagabond to grab him, or come after him, but he never did.

~*~

“What the fuck?” Ray whispered quietly. This was too much.

He'd gotten used to waking up at weird times when the Vagabond came and went. He was okay with the piles of ammo that materialized in the hallway. Even the way the Vagabond kept looking at him after the night of the storm, with those damn blue eyes, like he was trying to figure him out, that he could deal with.

But there was someone's hand in the freezer. A whole hand. Sitting on the frozen peas. Like it belonged there. And it did not belong there.

It wasn't even in a baggie.

Ray let the door fall closed, feeling sick. Not about the dismemberment ‒ that didn't faze him anymore. But that was someone's hand, and someone would be mad about that. Someone who might try to come after the Vagabond to get it back. And instead they'd find Ray.

He slumped to the floor as his stomach cramped. The dread in his chest that’d been shoved down by depression-fueled apathy was finally making itself heard. And it was saying so loudly _you fucked up, you fucked up so hard you can't ever get away, they're gonna come for you, no easy way out, just wait til he gets home and that's it_.

That's it.

Ray stayed on the floor for ages, mindlessly playing with the holes in his hoodie. His toes were freezing on the linoleum and his ass ached, but he couldn't move. He just waited, dimly wondering when the Vagabond had swept the floor. Because he sure hadn't, but there were no crumbs or dust bunnies to be seen.

Why the fuck did the Vagabond sweep the floor? 

The door finally opened, and Ray dragged his eyes up from the spot he'd been staring at for hours. The Vagabond froze two steps in, staring back at Ray. 

"Why is there a hand in the freezer?” Ray's throat cracked when he asked. He sounded dead. He felt dead. 

The Vagabond shook his head and dragged out his phone. He tapped at it as he walked over to Ray, crouching in front of him so he could put the phone in his face. **I thought you wouldn't find it**

“That's not a fucking answer.” The Vagabond’s eyebrow twitched at the stiffness in Ray's voice. 

**It's for a job.**

Obviously. “Why did you have to drag your shit here?” he asked bitingly. 

The Vagabond’s eyebrows frowned. **It'll be gone in a few days. Don't worry about it**

“You don't get it!” Ray snapped, jerking forward so fast the Vagabond fell back, fumbling with his phone. “I don't want this _shit_ in my fucking apartment!” 

The Vagabond’s angry frown was back. **I'm not going to stop doing my job because of you**

“I know that!” Who did the Vagabond think he was - like he would ask that? “I just don't want you bringing it here. Is that so fucking hard? I've put up with enough of your shit already, but you just keep coming back and making it worse and I don't‒” his voice cracked, and he gasped for air, feeling his throat ache. “I want it out,” he finished weakly. 

The Vagabond had been furiously typing as Ray ranted at him, but he stopped when his voice cracked. He stared at Ray as he swallowed, trying to fight down the hysteria trying to strangle him. It wasn't working, it felt like he was going to explode or shake apart. After weeks of nothing, feeling something was awful. 

As Ray's heavy breaths filled the space between them, the Vagabond finished typing. His face was blank for once as he held up his phone. **Nothing's going to happen to you. No one knows about this place. You don't have to worry about anyone coming after me here.**

“You don't fucking know that,” Ray spit through clenched teeth. “I don't care what you're doing, I just want to stay out of that shit. I’m done with that shit. You don't know‒” Ray stopped at the confused look that appeared on the Vagabond’s face, and then the look of sudden understanding. Of course. He didn't know Ray used to be just like him. 

Abort mission. “Whatever,” Ray muttered as he tried to shrink back into his hoodie. He regretted ever leaving his room and looking for a snack. He wanted to go back to bed and stop feeling things. “Just forget it, okay?” He swiftly got off the floor, avoiding the swipe of the Vagabond’s hand as he tried to stop him. Ray was too quick for him as he rushed back to his room. 

Ray face-planted back into bed, ready to drown in misery until he passed out. But for the first time, he heard the Vagabond’s footsteps approaching his room. He pushed his head under the pillow. “Fuck off,” he mumbled. 

The pillow was ripped violently from his hands. He was roughly shoved onto his side, so he was looking the Vagabond dead in the eye. The other’s blue eyes flicked over to the gun that had been hiding under the pillow, then back to Ray. Moving with alarming swiftness, he pinned Ray's hands with one of his own and pushed his knee into his hip, so he was crouching over Ray. Closer than he'd ever been, and much more dangerous than he was holding a knife to his throat. 

Ray stared up at his angry eyes, feeling a suffocating calm settle on him. “Are you going to kill me now or what?” 

The Vagabond twitched back in surprise. “Just do it, okay?" Ray said evenly. "I'm tired of waiting. If you're gonna do it then just do it.” 

Very slowly, The Vagabond shook his head. 

"Why not?” Ray snapped. “Think of how much easier you'd have it, not having to deal with me. No one will even fucking notice. No one will give a fuck. No one will fucking know but you!” 

Ray waited, but the Vagabond didn't move to kill him or reach for his phone. He just stared at Ray with something unreadable in his expression. 

"Don't tell me I'm too pathetic to kill,” Ray said softly. That was just his fucking luck ‒ the most dangerous killer in the world wouldn't even kill him. 

Carefully, the Vagabond climbed off him. His every movement was slow, like he expected Ray to snap and flail at him. He swiped the gun from the bed, handling it like a true professional. Finger away from the trigger, barrel pointed at the floor. Not at Ray.

Crippling misery settled over Ray when the Vagabond walked out with the gun, closing the door behind him. Ray rolled onto his stomach and curled up under the blankets, blinking hard, trying not to feel disappointed.

~*~

It was a different flavor that had edged into his crippling depression. It wasn't shame. Ray had no shame, and he didn't care to examine it closely.

But there was something really shitty about not being able to die even when you asked for it. His already over-the-top feeling of worthlessness multiplied every time he thought about it. He knew he had overreacted and blown up at the Vagabond when he shouldn't have. But having him around was a constant reminder that he wasn't out there working like he should be, that he was wasting his time and his life hiding away in the apartment. 

Why hadn't the Vagabond killed him? What the fuck was his problem? Since when did he give a shit? He was the goddamn Vagabond, who killed everyone and everything, but he hadn't killed Ray. Why couldn't he just end it? 

He didn't want to think about it. He also didn't feel like going out and questioning him again, since last time had ended so well. So Ray had stayed hidden in his room, trying not to think and feel as pathetic as he felt. 

But dammit, he had to pee. 

Ray waited until he absolutely could not stand it. The apartment had been quiet for ages, nothing but the sound of the AC humming away. Ray carefully snuck out of his room. Halfway to the bathroom he paused to listen harder, but there was no noise from the other room. The Vagabond was probably gone off on some job again. 

Ray did his business in a cloud of misery. He ran his tongue over his teeth, dimly thinking about brushing them. But he didn't have the energy. He just wanted to go back to bed. 

When he tried the door, the knob wouldn't turn. He pulled with all his strength, but it didn't budge. Something was pulling it closed. 

A piece of paper slipped under the door. **_Take a shower_**

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” Ray slammed his fist against the door. He just wanted to go back and be miserable in peace, and that jackass wanted him to shower. Ray turned to consider the cramped stall. Instead of its usual sliminess, it was clean, and smelled like chemicals. The Vagabond had fucking cleaned his shower. 

It was too much. He just didn't get it. Ray's groan came all the way from his toes as he physically slumped. He gave up. There was no point in arguing with the Vagabond since he wasn't even going to kill him. So Ray just gave up and took a shower. The soap and shampoo weren't his usual brand, but he used them anyway. 

Cleaner than he'd been in weeks, feeling slightly less gross, Ray tried the door again. It opened this time, and fighting off shivers, he wandered back to his room with only a towel on. The Vagabond was waiting for him there with a handful of sweatpants. 

“You're an asshole.” Ignoring the clothes, Ray flopped back on the bed, pawing blindly for the blankets. 

They were gone. And the sheets felt weird. Ray picked his head up and finally noticed he didn't recognize them. His pillowcase was gone too. And the pile of not-really-dirty clothes on his chair. 

“Are you fucking serious?” he snapped in disbelief when the Vagabond moved back into view. He was frowning at Ray, but that wasn't any different than normal. “Why can't you just fuck off and leave me alone?” 

The Vagabond threw the clothes in Ray's face. There was frustration in his shoulders when he stomped out of the room. Ray briefly celebrated before he came back, carrying the clothes Ray had left in the bathroom. Those were thrown in the hamper with the rest of his dirty clothes, and then the Vagabond left, carrying it with him. 

The Vagabond was doing his laundry. What the actual fuck. 

Ray wiggled into the sweatpants and his second favorite hoodie as his moment of being riled up leaked away, followed by the familiar feeling of not-shame. He shouldn't have blown up like that, again. But he couldn't help it ‒ he was so confused. Why was the Vagabond being nice to him all of a sudden? Was he seriously so pathetic the Vagabond felt bad for him? Was it because he thought Ray was a merc like him, and he should be shown respect? 

He almost laughed at the idea. No, the Vagabond didn't know what he used to be able to do, and he clearly didn't see Ray as a threat. Maybe he was looking to do something nice for once, to make up for all the nastiness he'd done? 

How fucked up was that? 

As usual, the confusion and uncertainty was giving away to numbness. Ray pushed his thumbs through the holes worn into the bottom of the hoodie’s cuffs, pulled the hood over his head and tried to ignore his brain. He tuned out the sounds of the Vagabond coming back, and moving around his space. Was it even his space anymore? It seemed like the Vagabond had just taken over everything and now it sounded like he was picking up all the trash that covered his floor. Why couldn't he just be left alone? 

Some time later, the blankets were thrown back over him, still warm from the dryer. Ray hummed his appreciation and burrowed under them. He thought he heard someone chuckle over his head. His dresser drawers squeaked, and Ray listened to the sound of the Vagabond putting away his laundry. How fucking weird. 

“You don't have to fucking do this, you know.” Ray hoped the blankets muffled his voice, that the Vagabond wouldn't actually hear him. The familiar sense of not being able to move was back, and Ray wanted nothing more than to go back to not existing. “This isn't gonna change anything.” 

He didn't expect a reaction, so he was surprised when the edge of the bed to dipped down. The Vagabond pushed the blankets back from Ray’s head so he could look him in the eye. He was frowning, like usual, but this time he didn't actually seem angry. His hand lingered on Ray's head, resting on the crown of his head, brushing through his still wet hair. It was awful how good it felt. 

Ray perked up when he realized the phone the Vagabond was holding was his own. When had the fucker taken it? What else of Ray's had he gone through? The Vagabond offered it back, and Ray took it with a confused look. He swallowed the feeling down when the Vagabond abruptly stood up and walked away. He turned the lights off and left. 

A minute later, Ray heard the front door close. He waited, in case the Vagabond was just taking out the trash or coming back with another load of laundry. Instead, his phone chirped with the first text notification he'd had in months. There was no contact name, just a skull emoji. 

**Try not to die until I get back**

~*~ 

It was dark when the Vagabond returned. Ray wasn't sure if it was the same day or the next. He tried really hard to not listen and feel relieved that he was back, because that was just pathetic. 

That didn't work when the Vagabond barged into his dark room and crawled over him to get to the other side of the bed. He plunked down a pillow and slumped into bed next to Ray. 

Ray knew he should be mad. He should be seriously pissed at the invasion of his privacy or something, but since the Vagabond left, he'd been drowning in his patheticness and apathy, and that wasn't going to change just because his weird roommate was back. 

“So, am I on suicide watch or something?” Ray blinked when the Vagabond’s phone lit up when he typed his reply. It was painfully bright when the Vagabond turned it to him to read. 

**My mattress has a hole in it**

Ray was surprised when a laugh shot out of him, despite himself. That was actually funny. In the sharp light of the phone, he could see the Vagabond grinning too. 

Ray wanted to ask what was happening between them, the Vagabond doing nice things and not being his usual creepy self. But instead his stupid brain was stuck on the big question, which is what he asked. “So why won't you kill me?” 

The Vagabond eyebrows came together unhappily. Ray shrugged nonchalantly. “I'm not desperate or anything, I just wanna know.” 

It was quiet for a long while. The Vagabond stared at his phone, like he was trying to come up with an answer. Finally, hesitantly, he typed a reply and turned his phone so Ray could read it. **You're the first person in a really long time that hasn't been afraid of me or tried to stab me in the back. That matters to me.**

Ray sighed softly. Fuck. He hadn't expected that. It was an odd thing for someone like the Vagabond to admit, but Ray could see why he did. A guy like him had a lot of enemies. It had to be nice to have at least one person he knew wouldn't fuck with him. 

And they Ray had gone and probably ruined it by yelling at him and revealing that he'd expected to die at any second. He picked at the frayed hole in his hoodie guiltily. “I know the other day I kinda…freaked out at you. I was having a bad day.” Ray's voice was so soft he wasn't sure the Vagabond could hear his weak explanation. “I just...you know what kinda mess I am. I haven't left here in ages, and I'm barely holding it together and you're…ya know. Actually functioning. But I do like having you around.” 

It felt weird to say it again, without the weird atmosphere from the storm, but as soon as he said it, the corners of the Vagabond’s mouth turned up. **Same** was his simple reply. 

“Holy shit,” Ray muttered to himself. How fucked up were they? 

The Vagabond was still watching him, like he wasn't sure what Ray was going to do. So Ray chose not to do anything. That had worked out so far. 

~*~ 

It didn't really change anything. The Vagabond still left for hours and days and came back to Ray in the same place and often in the same clothes. He ate whatever was easiest to make from the fridge and tried not to feel lonely when the Vagabond wasn't there. When he was, Ray ate whatever the Vagabond prepared and grew grudgingly used to sharing his bed. 

It was awkward, because Ray had his full-sized bed shoved in the corner of the room, and there was no easy way for the Vagabond to get to the other side without crawling over Ray. Ray wasn't about to give up the open side with his nightstand, not for the Vagabond who didn't even ask before he started moving his own stuff into the room. The only other option involved the Vagabond squirming and crawling his way up from the end of the bed, and that was just too hilarious to watch. 

He had to admit, sometimes it was nice, having someone around. Waking up at weird times from nightmares was better when there was someone there who wouldn't judge him, because he was also awake. Or just laying there half-asleep, no energy to get up, and just listening to the Vagabond breathe, just knowing he was there. And the bed was really too small for both of them, which meant a lot more unexpected contact. Which was really nice, but Ray would rather eat his own ear than admit it. 

The Vagabond was spending a lot of time in the room with Ray besides sleeping, mostly playing video games. They did better at multi-player games, like shooters and racing games. They didn't talk except for Ray swearing at him when he got an advantage in whatever game they were playing, and then the Vagabond would laugh at him. It was raspy and sounded like some Saturday morning kid's show villain’s laugh, but it was still good to hear. It didn't seem like he got to laugh a lot. 

He cleaned up the place ‒ Ray saw the floor for the first time in months. He got the feeling the mess really bothered the Vagabond in a personal way. He also had no issue with physically shoving Ray in the shower every so often, or forcing food on him and glaring until he ate it. In a way, it was better than he was an asshole and made Ray do things, otherwise they wouldn't happen. It wasn't like he cared about hurting Ray’s feelings. 

Being there all the time made it hard for Ray to fall fully back into his depression slump. Despite not really caring what the Vagabond thought of him, Ray kinda did. He didn't know what the Vagabond would think if he ever had one of his days where he just couldn't fucking move. That judgmental frown was enough to make him fake energy when he was around. 

If Ray wasn't up for playing games, the Vagabond would be on his laptop that looked like it was built from scratch, looking at sites Ray recognized as the deep web. That must be where he got his contracts. He didn't mind Ray's pretty obvious snooping on his screen. Sometimes he wouldn't move for hours, jumping between blueprints, police profiles, and other pages Ray didn't recognize. When he finally moved, he always got up and got dressed in basic blacks and left. Off on some job. 

There were also times where he'd just stay in bed watching videos on the internet. Sometimes he'd chuckle and turn the screen to Ray, showing off a meme that had caught his eye or replaying some funny video clip. That was fucking weird. 

But sometimes, in the middle of a Kirby game, or when the Vagabond handed him another plate of food, Ray could almost think there was a reason he was doing it. Not killing him was one thing, but it actually seemed like the Vagabond was trying to take care of him. And that made no damn sense. The Vagabond didn't do shit like that. 

He couldn't ask though. Not in a million years. It honestly felt like if he ever brought it up, or said anything about it, things would change. The weird shit would stop, sure, but it would also mean he wasn't okay with everything that was happening. And it wasn't like it was anything bad ‒ it was just the Vagabond doing normal things like he was a normal roommate or something. And he kinda liked it. 

He just had to keep reminding himself that it didn't really mean anything. Because it was too easy to forget in the moment, and think it was something else. 

~*~ 

It was really hard to keep track of days when they all dragged by in the exact same way. Ray didn't even know how long the Vagabond had been gone, except by the number of times he had to get up and eat or use the bathroom. If it was really the right amount of days, and Ray's messed up brain wasn't fucking with him, the Vagabond had been gone for two weeks. Maybe more. 

Ray wasn't worried. Totally not. This probably happened a lot, and he just never paid attention to it. The Vagabond was a fucking pro, he did it all and always walked away from it. Ray would be sorta impressed if he didn't know what a fucking dork he was when he was in the apartment. 

Without the mask or the jacket or threats of death and dismemberment, he was just a guy. A guy who was really pushy about being in Ray's space. Who had a job that left him coming home with a very pleased grin, in a I-fucked-up-a-lot-of-people-and-did-a-damn-good-job-at-it way. But also a guy who hung around in dad-jeans and sweats, like some lazy grown-up frat boy. And he cooked and gamed like a fucking boss. 

Ray could even think of him as a friend. Sorta. A really fucking weird friend who didn't give a flipping shit about personal space. But a friend who was making sure Ray ate and showered on a regular basis. Who was actually kinda dependable about keeping Ray from totally falling apart, even if he didn't know it. And that mattered. 

So Ray wasn't worried. And he was so not worried that he was continuously checking the internet, looking for some comment or mention of the Vagabond. He steered clear of the deep web ‒ he wasn't even sure if he could get there on his phone. And that was just asking for trouble if someone like him went snooping around there. 

Besides the deep web, Ray found lots of info, none of it helpful. The Vagabond had an official government website dedicated to gathering information leading to his arrest. Which was stupid, because everyone and their mother knew the cops were more likely to kill him than arrest him. The sparse description actually listed him taller than Ray was pretty sure he was. Ray read the desperate pleas for any information leading to his arrest and almost laughed. 

A lot of news websites had articles about the Vagabond, and they loved to summarize his greatest hits whenever they reported he pulled a heist. Or at least the ones they felt certain they could attribute to him. He was like a ghost, a literal boogeyman for all the evidence they couldn't get of him existing. Occasionally they got lucky and caught him on camera fleeing with a group of thugs when a heist got foiled. But the Vagabond always escaped while everyone else got arrested. 

Ray even stumbled onto a micro-blogging site with pages dedicated to the Vagabond. Blurry photos of his mask and jacket, theories about who he was and who gave him jobs. Ray had a laugh about a lot of them, especially the ones suggesting he was some sort of government agent let loose on the country to wage war against criminals. Or thought he was actually some kind of cryptid like Bigfoot. 

One blogger, who had just the name JDoolz to identify himself, had a whole blog about him, and actually had a pretty good timeline of the Vagabond’s jobs set up. It was even good enough for Ray to estimate the point where the Vagabond moved in. It was weird to him that all these people were dying to find out more about him, while Ray was the one who saw him without the mask all the damn time and didn't give a shit. 

Nothing he found gave him a damn clue where the man currently was though. 

There was the text, with the helpful reminder that he frequently glanced at. Ray hadn't texted the number, didn't even know if it was for a burner phone or not. The Vagabond wouldn't have given him his real number, right? And he probably didn't want any pointless texts from Ray just because he was desperate to hear from him. That was just pathetic. 

In the end, Ray stopped looking and stuck to what he did best- just giving up and ignoring the world. The Vagabond would come back or he wouldn't. It wasn't the end of the world if he didn't. Ray wasn't about to curl up in a miserable ball just because his weird roommate was gone. 

Of course, it was only after Ray was done with his obsessive searching that he came back. 

The lines around the Vagabond’s eyes made him look so much older than Ray guessed he was. He looked fucking exhausted, hair messy, bruises and cuts running up the undersides of his arms. There were probably more in other places. He sat on the end of the bed carefully, like he was in pain. Ray couldn't stop staring. He'd never seen him this bad. 

“So what happened?” he finally asked. The Vagabond glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You look like shit, dude.”

He waited while the Vagabond typed a reply. It wasn't the phone he normally used. **Job went to shit**

“That seems to happen to you a lot.” The Vagabond nodded tiredly in agreement. “You keep coming back looking like this, I'm starting to think you're not as big a deal as everyone says you are.” 

That made the Vagabond laugh, which Ray was happy to hear. It was tired, and sounded as horrible as always, but it was a laugh. Typing away again, the Vagabond flopped onto the pillows next to Ray, shuffling around to make himself comfortable. **I always kill them in the end, so no one really knows but you**

“Well ain't I fucking lucky,” Ray grumbled sarcastically. It was better to be sarcastic than to focus on the way the Vagabond was looking at him. He looked tired, but also happy, and relaxed, and far too glad to be there in the bed instead of where he had been. Ray swallowed nervously. “If, you know, shit goes south on a job again….you could let me know, somehow.” 

The Vagabond raised his head to look at Ray properly with surprise. Ray scrambled to set some boundaries. “I mean like picking you up from the airport or some shit, or posting bail or something. I'm not in any shape to go fucking up people for you.” 

The Vagabond’s smile was crooked, hindered by the bloody split on his lip, but it was there, and it was just for Ray. It almost made him feel special. 

**I'll keep that in mind**

~*~ 

Ray was fucking dead. Had to be. No one deserved to be alive like this. 

The feeling of impossible weight was on his shoulders, keeping him pinned to the bed. The feeling had been growing for a while, and now that it had hit Ray was down for the count. He was so uncomfortable, so tired and bored and he wanted to get up or move or something. But he couldn't. Like some fucking weak pussy, he couldn't even sit up. 

Glasses off, he stared sightlessly at the door. He couldn't even make his eyes focus. He was freezing, goosebumps running up and down his arms, but he couldn't sit up to reach the blankets pooled around his hips. Even his hoodie wasn't doing the job. His fingers were freezing where they stuck past his cuffs. He could feel warmth along one arm, the one closest to the Vagabond, but that just made him colder everywhere else. 

It was pathetic. He was pathetic. There was no reason he was feeling so suffocatingly worthless and awful. Nothing had gone wrong recently, he wasn't sitting around worrying about the Vagabond or thinking about what a pointless shitshow his life was. There was nothing fucking wrong, and yet he still felt like shit. And that just made it worse. 

The Vagabond was typing something on his laptop, ignoring Ray like he usually did. He had no idea that Ray was drowning in self-loathing. He couldn't even raise his head and ask him to pull the covers up. Not just because he had no energy, but because that was too much to ask. He couldn't be that weak in front of the Vagabond. 

Then again, he might be able to convince the Vagabond to kill him. That'd solve everything.

The Vagabond closed his laptop with a sigh. Ray closed his eyes, not wanting to see him. He was certain the Vagabond was judging him for being such a useless lump. Ray didn't blame him. 

The blankets rustled and the mattresses shifted when the Vagabond climbed over Ray to get up. He left the room, and Ray was glad he was too numb to move, because he would have called him back. As shitty as he felt, it almost felt better to have someone there. 

Ray laid there for a while, listening to the noises coming from the kitchen and not the miserable thoughts in his head. The Vagabond’s footsteps finally thudded back to the room. A bowl was set on the table next to Ray, and his shoulder was given a nudge. He didn't react, even when the Vagabond climbed over him again. Silverware clinked in another bowl, then stopped. Ray could feel the intensity of the Vagabond’s focus, even if he couldn't see him with his eyes closed. It was like he could actually feel it, like his eyes were X-rays and he could see right through him. 

Fingers settled on his head, running through his hair before settling on his throat. Jesus Christ, the Vagabond was checking his pulse. Ray couldn't even move away, but he hoped the whining noise that grated past his throat got the point across that he didn't want to be touched. He just wanted to be left alone.

The hand pulled away, and Ray heard the Vagabond sigh. Of course. He could see how pathetic Ray really was now. Would he kill him now, finally, so Ray could just stop giving a shit once and for all? He waited while the Vagabond moved around on the bed, leaning over him to put this dishes out of the way

The Vagabond shifted again, making the mattress move under Ray and settle in a familiar position. He was laying down. Why was he laying down, wasn't he eating? Before Ray could work the appropriate muscles to raise his head, he heard the familiar tones of a famous kid's movie studio’s title card. That really spurned him into moving, and when he raised his head and squinted, he could see the opening frames of an animated movie. It was playing on the Vagabond’s laptop, helpfully angled so Ray could see it. The Vagabond was facing it too, but his head was tilted towards Ray, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

The movie was something he'd seen a million times, well enough to sing along with every song, just like everyone his age. But the Vagabond...what the fuck was he doing watching a kid's movie? Why did he make sure that the screen was positioned so Ray could see it with minimal effort? Why was he now pulling the covers up around Ray's shoulders, smoothing his hand across his back?

Why was he doing this?

Ray focused on the screen, trying to sink into the movie, so he could stop thinking about things that didn't make sense. It was the sort of predictable story he barely needed to pay attention to, but it was enough to keep his focus. The Vagabond didn't make a move or sign of annoyance the entire time, even during the stupid singing scenes. 

When the movie was done, Ray had a brief flash of worry about what would happen next, but the Vagabond just began to stream another movie, a lighthearted comedy. He chuckled a few times, and even Ray had to weakly grin at the antics. It didn't really help, not enough to give him energy or turn his mood around, but it was enough to make the space in his chest feel too tender. 

~*~ 

It was shiny, still wrapped, and technically not available on the market yet. The brand-new FPS dangled in Ray's face, offered by the Vagabond with a pleased grin. 

“Gimme,” Ray made grabby hands and tried to nab it before the Vagabond jerked it away. “Come on,” Ray moaned when the other man raspily chuckled. He strained for it, trying to grab it without getting up. The Vagabond sat back out of his reach and pulled out his phone. 

**I need you to do something for me first**

“Want me to suck your dick? I'll do it,” Ray offered without thinking. That seemed to throw the Vagabond off, and he stopped typing to give Ray a look. Ray couldn't tell if it was a stupid-joke-response look or if he was actually considering it. Ray’d be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. 

The Vagabond finally shook his head, finishing his text and holding his phone out for Ray to read again. **I've got a potential client who's a techno-phobe. No texting or email. He'll talk over the phone, but you can see the problem there**

“Uh, yeah, that's a problem.” Ray had no fucking clue if the Vagabond was even capable of talking. “So wha‒ oh.” It finally sunk in for Ray. “Oh, no. Fuck you, you asshole. I never agreed to this.” Ray shrunk back under the covers, trying to hide from the idea. “I said I'll bail your ass out in an emergency, not be a fucking accomplice on a job.” 

There was actually such a guilty look on the Vagabond’s face that Ray felt kinda bad. **I don't have any other options**

Ray opened his mouth to ask why he didn't just meet in person, then remembered who he was dealing with. The Vagabond had a lot of enemies. It was one thing to take a job from someone who hated your guts but was desperate, but you didn't just go meet them in person. And this job had to be a big payer, if the Vagabond was still considering it given all the lengths he'd have to go through to get it. 

And the Vagabond didn't have anyone else, Ray realized with a flash of clarity. He never worked with a crew, never teamed up unless he was being paid to do it. The Vagabond had no one he could depend on except some depressed kid in an apartment. 

That would feel pathetic, but Ray actually felt kinda special. No one else had what he had. No one else got the Vagabond in his pajamas playing Mario Kart. 

“So, you just need me to talk to him? That's it?” Ray asked hesitantly. 

The Vagabond nodded. **Has to be a landline tho**

“Of course,” Ray muttered. It just couldn't be simple. 

That meant leaving the apartment. Ray hadn't been out in months, and not just because he had no energy to get up. Out in the city he'd be reminded of everything he was trying to hide and turn away from. They could find him out there. And the Vagabond wanted him to just walk right back out as a favor. 

But this was as good a reason as any to get his ass out of the apartment. He couldn't hide away forever. And the Vagabond wasn't asking him to load up on guns and take the job, just a little help. The Vagabond did his thing, and Ray could just go along with it, like he had for months. 

“What else is in this for me?” Ray nodded at the game next to the Vagabond’s leg. “You gotta do better than that to get me out of bed.” He wasn't in any position to bargain, but he at least wanted to put up a fight. 

The Vagabond’s face screwed up like he was thinking. **Half of my take of the job profit?**

“Getting warmer…” Ray encouraged. He didn't even need the money, he had enough left over from his last jobs, and the Vagabond bought most of the shit in the apartment. But it'd be nice to have. 

**We can get pizza on the way back** The Vagabond was grinning like he knew he won. And he was right.

“Fine,” Ray sighed as he kicked off the covers. The cold air made him shiver in his hoodie. “Let me get my pants on.” 

The Vagabond was practically beaming when he left the room, probably to change and get masked up. Ray grumbled as he found his nicely washed and folded jeans. They were loose, so he dug a belt out from his dresser. He kept his dingy hoodie though. It wasn't like he was going out to impress anyone. 

Out in the living room, the Vagabond was waiting, checking his gun. He had a different leather jacket, plain and black, and no mask, just some generic red baseball hat. “So what, are you undercover?” Ray asked. The Vagabond nodded and Ray snorted. There was nothing subtle about him, not with his hair loose around his shoulders that filled out the leather a little too well. Fucking pretty bastard. 

The Vagabond suddenly reached out, hooking his fingers into the pocket of Ray's hoodie. He pulled Ray close and reached behind him, sliding the gun under the waistband of his pants. Ray blushed and shifted, glad he had found his belt. The gun settled cold against his skin, and the Vagabond arranged Ray's hoodie to hide it. 

“If I get shot at because of you, I'm gonna be pissed,” Ray muttered. He could feel his fear trying to spike, but it was pretty even with the numbness. It felt like shit, and he felt like passing out or collapsing and refusing to go out. Why was he fucking doing this? 

The Vagabond, surprisingly, didn't pull away. He rubbed his hand up and down Ray's arm, typing something on his phone. **Nothing's going to happen to you** the Vagabond’s words promised. **I'll protect you.**

Ray wanted to believe it. He followed the Vagabond down the stairs, feeling numbness spreading through his body. It was easy to just go along with the Vagabond and not think about what he was doing. The gun weighed him down, dragging at his pants with every step. Ray moved it from his pants to his hoodie pocket. It felt more natural there. 

It was late in the evening, but Liberty City was still awake and kicking. It was barely even dark, the yellow light pollution bouncing back and making everything glow in the still-humid air. Out in the street, the Vagabond threw an arm over Ray's shoulders, steering him down the cracked sidewalk. Ray pulled his hood up, eyeing the rooftops. A year ago, he would have been lurking up there on a job. 

Ray tried to relax. His neighborhood wasn't the greatest, and he could feel eyes on them as they walked along. The Vagabond seemed to be perfectly at ease, strolling down the street like he owned it. And really, that was appropriate. It wasn't like anyone could seriously mess with him. He was the fucking Vagabond, even if the people they passed didn't know it. He certainly didn't look the part ‒ out on the street, dressed casually, he was just another guy in the crowd. But he was still one of the most deadly people in the country. 

Finally, they were away from the busy streets, on the nicer side of town. The Vagabond’s arm left his shoulders to pull his hood up higher and adjust his own hat lower. They slipped into an alley behind some hipster restaurant. Ray automatically turned to guard the Vagabond’s back when he began messing with the fuse box. 

This was all so horribly familiar. Ray focused on his breathing, eyes at the street entrance. He slipped his hands into his front pocket, cradling the gun. He hadn't shot anything in months ‒ he'd been pretty fucking good before, but what if he'd lost his touch, now, when he needed it again? 

The Vagabond grumbled behind him, struggling with the latch and lock. Ray swallowed down his fear. His fingers were still steady. He knew, if it all came down to it, he'd shoot to kill if someone threatened the Vagabond. 

The lights went out, and Vagabond picked the door lock in no time. He grabbed Ray's arm to pull him into the building. The touchy-feely stuff was different, but Ray guessed it was the Vagabond’s way to try to make him feel better. It almost worked. 

The Vagabond used his phone's light to guide them through the empty back rooms. There was an old phone in the office, cord and all. When Ray picked it up he heard the tone, so the Vagabond must have just tripped the breakers for the lights and alarms. 

“What's the number?” he whispered. Why'd he whisper? There was no one here but them, but whispering fit the mood. The Vagabond held out his hand. Ray was expecting a slip of paper, but it was written right on his skin. He snorted as he punched in the number. At least there'd be no evidence. 

When it began ringing in his ear, Ray took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This was fine, he'd talked on the phone millions of times. But he still hated it. He half-hoped it would go to voicemail. 

He almost jumped out of his skin when arms wrapped around his waist from behind. The Vagabond plastered himself to Ray’s back, pressing his face to the back of Ray's neck and tilting his ear towards to ear piece. His weight almost made Ray stagger before he adjusted his stance and pushed back. 

“If you wanted to cuddle, we could have just stayed in.” Ray's muttered comment got him a snort and a well-deserved nudge. He was still smiling when the line finally got picked up. 

“Who is this?” a properly menacing voice on the other end asked. Ray froze, thinking fast, because there was no way in hell he was giving out his real name or his former professional nickname. 

“Uh, this is TAFKAR.” He felt the Vagabond snort against his neck when it came out as a squeak. “I'm speaking on behalf of the Vagabond.” That sounded better. The voice on the other line muffled, probably talking to someone else. Ray flexed his fingers where they were squeezing the receiver too tight. _Fuck._ What the fuck had he gotten himself into? 

“Is the Vagabond there?” a new voice asked. He had a heavy New England accent, even to Ray's ear, and the right attitude in his tone that Ray guessed this was the techno-phobe boss. He'd been expecting an old geezer but he just sounded like someone's dad. 

“Yeah, he's here.” Hugging Ray from behind, which was so totally beyond weird that Ray didn't want to think about it.

“Put him on,” the boss demanded. Ray scoffed at him.

“Why? You know he doesn't talk ‒ that's what I'm here for,” Ray snapped. The Vagabond thumped his forehead into the back of Ray's head and he squeezed his arms dangerously. It was probably a really bad idea to sass a mob boss or whatever, but Ray was in no mood to put up with that kind of posturing. His old street attitude was slipping back, just like pulling on a hoodie. “Look, he's right here, he can hear everything you're saying, so just tell us what the job is.” 

There was a considering silence down the line. “The job is simple,” the boss finally said. “One of our family has been pulled astray, taken in by another group. We want him back. Alive.” His tone was stiff, too guarded. Not right.

“Mmm hmm,” Ray nodded. “What else?”

“Excuse me?”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Well, what's stopping you and your guys from going to get your guy yourself?” The Vagabond nodded against his neck. At least he hadn't stabbed Ray yet for going off-script. Maybe his bullshit detector was going off too. 

The silence on the other end sounded insulted that Ray had even asked. “He is familiar with all of us. The Vagabond would be able to approach him without raising suspicions.” The tone implied that this should be obvious, but Ray wasn't buying it. 

“Right, because that skull mask is so subtle.” Ray said sarcastically. “Give us details. Who is it, where is he, what condition you want him in? You know who you're dealing with here, right? What's he goin’ up against?” 

The man on the other end sighed. “Details aren't important right now. We want him alive and we are willing to pay a great deal to get him back. Now put the Va‒” 

“Excuse me? Details aren't important, what the fuck are you smoking?” Ray asked accusingly. It may have been some time since Ray had taken a job, but there were some things you didn't just gloss over. “What is this? What are you really up to?” 

“How dare you! Do you know who I am?” The man on the other end kept raging, yelling about Ray not having the right to speak to him like that or something. Ray pressed the mouthpiece to his shoulder, turning his head to look at the Vagabond. He made a slashing motion across his neck. 

The Vagabond nodded. Ray put the phone back to his mouth. “He won't take the job.” 

He managed to catch a very offended “ _What?_ ” before he put the phone back on its base. The Vagabond loosened his arms so Ray could turn around to face him fully. “Sorry,” Ray muttered, all of his bravados draining away. “I shouldn't have mouthed off at him. But that had to be a set-up or something, right?” They were hiding something, too tight-lipped with the details. If Ray had to guess, it was probably a plan to off the Vagabond and the rogue guy at the same time. 

To his relief, the Vagabond nodded in agreement. He didn't look mad at all, or surprised. Maybe he'd expected the job wouldn't work out. He moved one arm up to Ray's shoulders, pulling him along out of the building. They left the lights off and the door open. Some homeless guy was going to get lucky later. 

The job was a wash, but the Vagabond pulled Ray along to a pizza place that was still open anyway. Under the buzzing fluorescent lights, Ray felt more awake than he had in months. He ordered for both of them, and the other man paid. When they sat in the booth, and the pizzas were delivered, they ate in comforting quietness that almost felt like a date. 

Back at the apartment, Ray collapsed back into bed, feeling full and flushed with the success of having gone out without incident. The Vagabond joined him with a contented sigh, and Ray wondered when that had become okay without him noticing. 

~*~ 

Ray sighed raggedly into the moist air. Showers were the only things these days that he could count on for making him feel better. He'd really needed a shower for a while, and he knew that if he didn't the Vagabond would actually push him to. Which he was normally fine with, except in this instance. The heat from the water was enough to turn his skin pink, but it wasn't the only reason he was flushed. That was the other thing he could reliably count on for a mood boost. 

He bit his lip as he worked his hand over his dick. Ray knew what he liked, how to get himself off quick and fast or to make it last. But this time he moved his hand roughly, almost cruelly, as he imagined how a certain someone else would do it. The Vagabond wouldn't be nice about it, he'd be his usual pushy demanding self, getting in Ray's space and driving him out of his mind. He'd kiss rough too, exactly the Ray secretly enjoyed, while jerking him off exactly how _he_ wanted to. 

Ray knew he shouldn't be fantasizing about the Vagabond like this. They were roommates, friends, sorta, and he couldn't let his stupid emotions make things worse than they already had. Hell, he didn't even know if the Vagabond even liked men, or if he was indifferent about everything in general. But he'd caught a glimpse of his lower abdomen earlier, a flash of skin and muscle that was exposed when the Vagabond had gotten up and stretched, and that was enough to jump-start his fucked-up libido. 

Biting off a gasp when a surge of pleasure almost knocked him over, Ray braced himself on the plastic wall of the stall. He couldn't last, not like this, not when he pictured the wicked gleam that would be in the Vagabond’s eye when he sank to his knees to suck Ray off. Fuck, he'd probably use teeth too, and that idea made Ray almost come, but he tightened his hand, holding it back. It was rare to get the energy and willpower just to jerk off, so he was gonna make it last. 

Ray focused back on his fantasy, imagining the Vagabond gripping his thighs to spread him open. He had such nice hands and arms, and Ray was such a shrimp he'd be easily pushed around into position. He wanted that, deeply, to just let go and let the Vagabond take care of everything. It'd be so easy to give in, Ray could just _trust_ him like he wanted to and not wonder constantly if he was doing everything wrong, if he really meant anything to the other man. To feel arms around himself and know for certain he was safe. 

That made the heat and pleasure and everything too much, and Ray came with a moan that he quickly stifled in his arm. He gasped, trying to move the moist and heavy air through his lungs, while his knees trembled against the force of his orgasm. That had been a good one. 

The guilt followed soon after. He shouldn't have done that. It was never going to happen. Ray would never push his needy wants on the Vagabond, who was never gonna reciprocate. It was too pathetic to think about now that the pleasure was gone and the cold apathy greeted him like the air outside the stall did. 

Ray toweled off, squinting past the condensation on the mirror to see if he was still flushed. He was, but he could pretend it was just the shower. Slapping his fogged-up glasses on his face, Ray opened the door and nearly ran face first into the Vagabond. 

“Fuck!” Ray squealed, scrambling to move back and cover himself. He was pretty sure the towel slipped, and he hunched over, trying to get his breath back. “We can't keep running into each other like this,” he gasped. 

He already couldn't see through his glasses, and they were suddenly jerked off his face. Ray could see blurry movements and guessed the Vagabond was wiping them off. When they were handed back, Ray could see clearly the Vagabond was still wearing his pajamas, hair down around his shoulders and pants loose and low. He was also smiling softly, the way that made Ray's chest hurt to look at. 

Fucking pretty bastard. At least he could pass his blush off as embarrassment since he was pretty sure he exposed himself.

Ray pulled himself together enough to play it off, knocking into the Vagabond’s shoulder as he passed. The easy grin spread across the other man's face as he stepped onto the bathroom for his turn.

Back in his room, Ray face-planted into the bed and waited for the shower to start before whale-moaning his misery into the sheets. He just couldn't fucking win. 

~*~ 

Ray woke one night to the Vagabond gripping his wrist so hard he could feel his bones rubbing. He lifted his head with a grumble to find the Vagabond sitting up ramrod straight, staring at the far corner. One hand held Ray, and the other was pointing a gun that direction. 

“What?” Ray mumbled, pushing himself up. The Vagabond didn't move. Ray awkwardly grabbed his glasses and shoved them on his face so he could see the far corner properly. “Dude, there's nothing there.” 

The gun trembled. Ray looked at him, _really_ looked, and realized he knew the way the Vagabond’s breath was catching, how his eyes were unfocused but wide. He was having some sort of panic attack or flashback. He was seeing something in that corner, but at least had enough sense to not shoot at it. 

Ray didn't know what to do. Bringing attention to himself didn't seem like a good idea, but he couldn't leave the Vagabond like that. Carefully, Ray reached over and got his hand on the gun. The safety was on, thank god. But the Vagabond's finger was on the trigger, so Ray carefully pried it away. 

Feeling more confident, Ray moved his hand over the Vagabond’s, trying to break his grip. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let me have it.” It was obviously the last thing the Vagabond wanted to do, but finally his fingers loosened. Ray took the gun, leaving it pointed at the corner. 

“Look,” Ray struggled to sit up, leaning against the Vagabond and pushing on him hard enough to make him sway and lose his staring match with the corner. “I've got the gun. If I see anything I'll shoot it. Okay? You know I will. Just relax.” 

Somehow, that worked. The tension was slowly draining from the Vagabond’s shoulders, but his eyes were still unfocused and dark. Ray kept their hands together and leaned on him, letting the Vagabond hold him up. His eyes were heavy, but his hand was steady and the gun remained pointed at the corner. 

That night was a long one. It felt like hours passed before the Vagabond came out of it, breathing suddenly hitching like he'd just woken up. He groaned and rubbed his face, before looking over at Ray guiltily. Without a word Ray gave him the gun back and slid beneath the sheets again. The Vagabond got out of bed and left as Ray closed his eyes. 

He was still gone when Ray woke up again. 

~*~ 

Ray swore under his breath as he dug through the cupboards. There were canned beans and veggies, some tuna and pasta. No fucking chips. The Vagabond was a fucking good cook, and good at making Ray eat when he didn't want to, but he had such a craving for some chips. And the Vagabond wasn't around so he couldn't pester him to go get them. 

Normally he'd just deal with it, and let it go, but the craving was real. And he so rarely felt anything, much less hunger. And he wanted it. 

There was a convenience store just down the block. Ray could picture it, all brightly lit and full of snacks. But it was a matter of convincing his brain to go out. It wasn't like he was in any danger just going to the store, but fuck if he didn't want to go out. 

He couldn't remember when it happened, but somehow, in the first month after he'd moved in, going outside became impossible. He was beyond paranoid, watching every rooftop and every person on the street, paralyzed by waiting for the attack he knew would come. And it just got worse and worse, coupled with the exhaustion and worthlessness until he couldn't go out at all. 

Going out with the Vagabond had given him some confidence back. And he was on the opposite coast from what happened before. Maybe they weren't even looking for him anymore... 

Before his courage and energy could fail him, Ray hustled back to his room and grabbed his pants. The license in his wallet was the actual legitimate one, instead of one of his many fakes, but it wasn't like he'd need it. There was just enough money in there to buy his treat. 

Ray thought about grabbing a gun, but that would just be asking for trouble. He was just going for snacks. _Just grab the chips and get back home. Nothing bad will happen._

Keeping those thoughts running through his head, Ray locked up the apartment and left. He took the stairs rather than the ancient elevator, mostly to avoid attention by going out the back way. The muggy air greeted his face, reminding him that the outside world didn't have A/C. But he wasn't about to ditch his hoodie, even though it clung to him, weighing him down. It was the only thing holding him together against his anxiety. 

The trip down the street to the store was short, but it was farther than he'd been in months. At least without the Vagabond. Ray didn't make eye contact with anyone in the streets, head down and minding his own business. He should have grabbed a gun. He felt exposed, like every rooftop was glaring down at him. 

The store was blissfully air conditioned and empty. The guy behind the counter barely raised his head when he walked in. Grinning awkwardly at him, Ray ducked into the chip aisle. He hated how out-of-place he felt. It was easy to forget, but since the Vagabond didn't talk, he hadn't actually had a real conversation with anyone in months. Mouthing off at mob bosses didn't count. 

Ray was thinking about that as he grabbed his chips, so the sudden shouting at the front of the store startled him. Ray ducked instinctively, watching a pair of guys with bandanas over their lower faces tear through the store. Just his fucking luck. He had to go to the store just as it was getting robbed. Ray’s brain screamed at him to panic, but his body stayed still. He knew he had to stay calm. 

Ray already had his wallet in hand when one of the perps noticed him. “Freeze!” the guy ‒ no, teen, he had to be younger than Ray ‒ shouted at him. Like he was a fucking cop or something. Ray snorted and tapped his fingers against the bag, making it crinkle. 

“I'm just here for chips, buddy.” Ray spoke calmly, like he talked to a dangerous criminal every day. Inside, his brain was going haywire with alarm, but he could get out of this. This wasn't his first store robbery, although it was the first time on the wrong end of the gun. “Just take my wallet, there's nothing even in there, but‒” 

“Brownman?!” Ray froze at the excited voice. _Shit._ A face he knew, even under the fabric covering his lower face, thrust itself into view around the aisle end. Ray could tell he was smiling. He forced his own face to mirror it as he stood up.

“Hey, Caleb.” Ray tried to inject some enthusiasm in his voice, but it sounded fake. Caleb didn't care, he was clearly too stoked to notice, bounding over to Ray like they had just met on the street instead of a store being robbed.

“Man, I ain't seen you in ages!” He punched at Ray's arm, like they were still friends. “When’d you get to this coast? What’ve you been up to? Do do any neat heists lately?” he asked in rapid succession. He wrapped his arm around Ray's shoulder, practically strangling him. Ray's right arm was pressed to his side, pinning it. Fucking useless, even if he had a weapon.

Stay casual. “Just, you know, hanging out.” Ray tried not to panic as he was steered out of the store, leaving the clerk with his hands up and the two remaining robbers behind. He clutched his chips to his chest. “So you got a crew now?” He had to stay chill. He had to pretend he wasn't about to fall apart at the seams. Guys like him didn't do that.

"Yeah, just a little gang, started it after I split with the guys out west, you know how it is.” Caleb waved his hand grandly and pulled down his mask, grinning down at Ray. “You should come chill with us sometime. We could use a big shot like you on the team.” He laughed like it was the greatest joke in the world. 

Ray, meanwhile, was scanning the street, seeing other members peel away from building and steps they'd been loitering on and start trailing them. _Little gang, his ass_. He always knew Caleb had aspirations of greatness, but he'd apparently stepped up big time. He obviously wasn't afraid of getting the wrong attention. 

“I don't really have time for small-time stuff now,” he said. Or rather, the Ray he'd been before said. The smooth criminal who used to rule the rooftops wasn't afraid of some dinky little gang boss, not after months of dealing with the Vagabond. 

The Ray who'd spent months in his apartment not going out, on the other hand, was in full silent panic mode, wondering how the fuck he was gonna get out of this. 

“Don't be like that, man.” At least Caleb was steering them down the street towards his apartment building. Ray could see the side entrance, barely lit up, but still welcoming. A well-dressed man stepped up to the door and fumbled with the keys. Ray wondered if he could slip in with him. 

Caleb was still going on about his new crew and their exploits. “--And there's this store, right? Think they're hot shit cause they're organic, trying to gentrify this place. Bunch of bullshit, we ran in there and scared the piss out of them, drove them out…” 

The man on the steps raised his head and looked over, and Ray was shocked to see it was the Vagabond. In a clean suit, hair neatly pulled back, Ray barely recognized him. But he clearly recognized Ray. When his eyes fell on him, tucked under the arm of some street punk, they widened before narrowing dangerously. 

Ray tried to send him a pleading look without it being too obvious. He was on the right side of the walkway, the Vagabond could just reach out and grab him. Drag him back inside where it was safe. Ray hoped he would. If he got some idea that Ray was up to some shit, dealing with some street thug, Ray wouldn't put it past him to shoot him dead. 

The Vagabond opened the building door and waited, propping it open with his foot. He was glaring like a motherfucker, a deadly dangerous look that would go right over Caleb's head. But he was clearly waiting for Ray. His odd posture and stillness caught Caleb’s attention when they walked closer, and Ray felt him shift for his gun. “What’re you‒” Caleb started to say. 

Ray used his distraction to slip from under his arm. “Well, it was great seeing ya, but I gotta split. Got big stuff planned,” Ray lied through his teeth as he ducked under the Vagabond’s arm and into the building. He heard Caleb shout something before the door slammed shut, and then all Ray could hear was his own breath and the sound of his shoes on the stairs as he quickly climbed. The heavier thud of the Vagabond’s steps followed him. 

He struggled with the door, barely able to grab at his keys while his lungs tried to suffocate him. Ray burst into the apartment, barely pausing before he rushed to his room. Rather than fall into bed, he dove under it. Swiping wildly, he managed to grab his gun case and haul it out. 

Still heaving, trying to make his body calm the fuck down, Ray yanked the case open, grabbing at the pieces of his sniper rifle. They were still there, waiting for him. Familiar and safe and dependable. His hands were shaky, but he screwed it together on muscle memory alone. Just getting it back in his hands calmed something in his mind. When that was done, he took a deep breath and took it apart again. Then back together, faster than the first time. All on instinct ingrained in his brain. 

His fingers stopped trembling first, recognizing the need for stillness. The calm spread up his arms, settling in his chest. He was still heaving with breaths, but his limbs were steady. He had to calm down. He had to be calm when handling his gun, or things would go _so wrong_ , and it was working. His movements evened out. He stopped fumbling putting it together, and slipped right back into the smoothness that used to come naturally to him. 

Finally, Ray stilled his actions, pulling his gun close to his chest and cradling it. His breath was still heavy, but not like before. Now he was just fucking exhausted, physically and mentally. Everything had gone worse than even he expected. He looked up to see the Vagabond, just standing in the doorway. He'd been there the whole time, just watching Ray. 

“Please don't judge me right now,” Ray croaked. He knew he had to look like a mess. His panicked actions probably hadn't done him any favors in the Vagabond’s eyes. What kind of fucker would freak out like that just from running into some old crew member? Only someone as fucked up as him. 

The Vagabond tilted his head and carefully stepped forward. His hand reached out to push gently at the barrel, keeping it pointed away from his head as he stepped up next to Ray. Turning, he joined Ray on the floor, back to the bed. 

His fingers ran down the barrel, making a soft shivery sound against the painted metal. Ray didn't move or jerk it back, not even when the Vagabond’s hand reached the seam where the barrel screwed into the body of the gun. It squeaked as he twisted it apart, not smoothly coming apart like it used to, back when Ray was still active. 

The Vagabond pulled the gun case closer, finding the vial of grease Ray kept in the pocket. Like he knew it would be there. With a careful finger, the Vagabond dipped his finger in and rubbed the grease into the ridged seam, spreading it all around. When he screwed it back in, it twisted together soundlessly. 

With a nudge from the Vagabond, Ray flipped the gun so he could get to the stock. It had kept getting stuck when Ray had been frantically putting it together, and he had to help steady the gun when the Vagabond finally got it unstuck. He gave it the same treatment as the other end, covering the metal with enough grease that it screwed back in easily and silently.

When that was done they both sat quietly. Ray was growing numb, exhausted from the trip out and hating himself for his actions. The Vagabond didn't feel like he was judging him, but Ray couldn't stop himself from barfing up the words.

“He was… I'd done a few jobs with him, back before. He kept trying to get in touch with me after I‒ after I moved in here. Kinda the last person I want lurking around right now.” It sounded even more stupid when he said it out loud. “Look, I know I'm messed up. I shouldn't have acted like that, I know it's stupid. But I...I just…” Ray ended with a shrug, because how the hell was he supposed to explain how scared and panicked he'd become from seeing someone from his past? That he literally couldn't move or think the right way sometimes? Ray sighed and rubbed at his face. “That's what I get for trying to go out.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Vagabond finally pull out his phone. He took his time typing a message. **You did it, though** The Vagabond deleted the words and started again. **You went out, and you handled it. That's good**

“Your definition of good is severely fucked up.” Ray chuckled weakly at the lopsided grin the Vagabond gave him. The other man bumped his shoulder, letting his weight rest there. There was some kind of emotion in his eyes, but Ray was too tired to figure it out. 

Ray tipped his head, letting it rest on the Vagabond’s broad shoulder. The Vagabond shifted, moving his arm, but before Ray could move away and regret his entire existence, the arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him back in. His hand settled in Ray’s hair and stroked it, like that was normal. 

Ray didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything, most of all about the hurting feeling in his chest. So he just let it happen. 

~*~ 

Ray's first waking thought was a question as to what was sitting on him. There was something heavy pressing on his side, and shifting around did little to move it. Reluctantly, Ray peeled his eyes open and squinted down his side. 

It was an arm. The Vagabond’s arm, Ray realized with a jolt. The Vagabond’s arm, which was attached to the Vagabond’s body, which was pressed to his back. They were fucking cuddling. Ray was little-spooning with the Vagabond. 

_What the fuck!?_

He tried not to instinctively thrash and panic, because Ray recognized that that would be the exact wrong thing to do. It wasn't bad. The Vagabond had been getting more touchy-feely since their trip outside, letting his hands linger on Ray's when handing him stuff, or sitting practically on top of him when they were gaming. But fucking sleep-cuddling was a new development. 

Ray wasn't about to say he didn't like it though. It was exactly the opposite. He was finally warm, and the Vagabond’s arm across his stomach was a comforting sort of weight that Ray didn't want to dislodge. Not to mention he was always down for cuddling with a super-fine guy, but could never ask for it. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to it, or came off weird about it, because then it would stop. 

And Ray didn't want it to stop. 

He must have dozed off again, because he jumped awake when his nightstand buzzed. The Vagabond startled too, practically falling on Ray in his desperate reach over him to the nightstand. His smartphone was plugged in there, charging next to Ray's. There were also several burner phones stashed in the drawer, which were the ones the Vagabond used on jobs. The Vagabond jerked one out, returning to his side of the bed to check the text. 

When had it become his side of the bed? When had Ray started being okay with this? 

The Vagabond awkwardly shoved down to the end of the bed to get up, starting to get dressed. It had to be a job. That was the only reason he seemed to leave these days. Ray couldn't even remember the last time the other man had left for some other reason. 

Before the Vagabond left, he stopped to pick up his personal phone, guiltily glancing at the bed. Ray met his eye, watching the frown grow on his face. Maybe he had hoped Ray had slept through all that. 

Ray poked his hand out from under the blankets, waving a few fingers. The frown turned into a small smile. The Vagabond waved back at him before closing the door and leaving. 

~*~

Ray watched the live footage through the streaky screen on his phone, watching the high speed chase across the city from the camera mounted on a helicopter. There'd been a bank heist, a huge one, and the cameras had caught a glimpse of the Vagabond’s mask before the crew had taken off in the getaway vehicle. 

It wasn't looking good. Ray knew car chases didn't end well often, especially with a helicopter trailing them. Half the city's worth of cops were right on their asses. But the Vagabond was a fucking professional. He knew his shit. 

Breath catching, Ray watched as the car was rammed, causing it to swerve and skid to a stop. Ray was paralyzed, heart beating in his ears over the babbling of the reporter as he watched the cops surround the car and swarm them. There was a brief shootout, then the car’s survivors staggered out into the cop's waiting arms. 

Ray almost laughed with relief. None of the robbers were wearing the distinctive mask or jacket, and none of them had long blonde hair. Neither did the driver, once they pulled him free. The Vagabond wasn't there. He must have given them the slip and gotten away like he always did. 

At ease in a way he didn't want to think about, Ray turned off his phone and slumped on the bed. The Vagabond would be back soon, probably in a few hours, and Ray was actually looking forward to it. Even with the Vagabond’s efforts to keep his business out of the apartment, there was a totally obvious change in his demeanor after a successful heist. He seemed happier, invincible, ready to laugh raspily at all of Ray's shitty jokes. Ray wasn't tired of seeing it. 

Hours later, Ray perked up when the front door slammed. Rolling over to face the door, he grinned when the Vagabond walked it. The other man blinked when he saw him, probably surprised to see him awake and emoting. Ray couldn't blame him ‒ it was unusual. 

“Nice job,” he said with a grin. The Vagabond grinned back, dropping a plastic bag on the bed and undoing his pants. Ray avoided watching him drop trou and grabbed for the bag. It obviously wasn't his mask and jacket ‒ Ray had no idea where he hid them when he wasn't in the apartment. Instead, it was a white box of something. 

The Vagabond dropped onto the end of the bed, thankfully now wearing his sweatpants. He tugged the box out of Ray's hands and opened it. The smell of baked goods reached Ray first, before he saw the Vagabond pull out a donut and take a huge bite from it. 

“You got donuts while running from the cops?” Ray laughed, especially when the Vagabond raised his eyebrows in agreement, sugar ringing around his mouth. He handed the box back to Ray so he could see the choices. It looked like variety pack, some with sprinkles, others glazed. Ray eyed one he was pretty sure was cream-filled and asked hopefully, “Can I‒?” 

The Vagabond nodded vigorously and gestured at the box and Ray. He dug in, getting icing on his fingers when he took a huge bite, getting a mouthful of filling. Ray groaned happily. “This is fucking amazing.” 

They shared the box back and forth, helping themselves to their favorites. Ray might have physically threatened the Vagabond when he stole the jelly-filled one before Ray could get it, but everything worked out when the Vagabond willingly split it with him. Belly full, Ray settled back in the bed. 

The Vagabond retrieved his laptop before reclining back to join him. Ray glanced over while he flipped through websites, including a banking site and something on the deep web. He kept flipping back to news sites covering the bank heist and following chase and smiling to himself. 

Laying in bed, idly watching the Vagabond scroll through the web, Ray tried to identify what he was feeling. There was something lodging in his chest, like a chunk of donut that didn't go all the way down. But it wasn't that, and it wasn't hunger. It wasn't the suffocating nothingness that he was so disgustingly used to. It wasn't stupid worry over the Vagabond, because he shouldn't be worrying about him in the first place, and especially since he was back safe. 

There was nothing wrong, Ray realized with a jolt. He wasn't feeling nothing, or sad or grumpy like he always was. This was fucking nice, just sitting with the Vagabond. He was okay. 

This was okay.

Ray sighed and slipped lower on the bed. The Vagabond didn't even move to watch his actions, just shifted his elbow so it wasn't in danger of hitting Ray’s head. He probably didn't realize Ray was feeling better than he had in months. He probably didn't know Ray was the closest to being okay for once. 

Ray wondered what part of his soul he'd have to sell to feel like this all the time.

~*~ 

It happened again. Ray woke up to an arm wrapped around him. This time it felt like the Vagabond was even closer, his face practically pressed to Ray's hair. Just like last time, Ray didn't try to pull away or feel weird about it. It happened, and it wasn't like it hurt or meant anything. This was his new normal, and he was okay with it. 

He was perfectly happy to just lay there the rest of the morning, but the chirpy alert from one of the burner phones broke the humming quiet of the room. Ray groaned, and so did the Vagabond when he blindly stretched his arm out to get it. This was the third job in a week, and Ray knew the Vagabond was sick of it. Ray was too. 

The Vagabond pulled back slightly to read the flip phone's screen and text back. He couldn't go far, because Ray was laying on his other arm. It was probably all numb. 

When the tapping of the Vagabond’s fingers on the buttons stopped, Ray braced himself for the Vagabond getting up and leaving immediately, like he always did when he got a job. Instead, the Vagabond slid back to him, throwing his arm into place over Ray's side and pulling him back into little spoon position. Ray didn't struggle against him. It felt too nice. 

“Another job?” he finally asked. The Vagabond hummed in agreement. “You're popular.” The Vagabond hummed again, rubbing his face in Ray's hair. Holy shit. 

He should say something, ask what the fuck the Vagabond thought he was doing. This was fucking cuddling, and the Vagabond didn't fucking cuddle. But he was, and he didn't seem to have a problem with it. And Ray just let it happen because he was so damned touch-starved that at this point getting strangled wouldn't be too bad.

Finally, after another series of chirping texts, the Vagabond pulled away and got up. Ray listened to the sound of him getting dressed, easily picturing exactly what he was dressing in. It was always the same plain black shirt and jeans he always wore out of the apartment. The mask and jacket, wherever they were, would finish up the look, and Rays weird roommate would actually look the part of the mercenary he was. 

Half-asleep again, Ray smiled and waved again when the Vagabond paused at the door. The look he gave Ray was almost nice, before it dropped away when he turned to leave. Ray listened to the front door close before stretching and rolling over. He was still tired, and the curtains blocked enough daylight that he wanted to sleep again.

It felt like only a minute later, but Ray jolted awake when he heard the door open again. Was the Vagabond back already? Ray sat up and grabbed his glasses, about to yell down the hall, but his words quickly died in his throat. Someone was talking. 

_Shit._ Ray’s heart lept and he scrambled to get off the bed. His hand bashed into the corner of his nightstand when he swiped the gun from under the Vagabond’s pillow on the way. He fell to the floor and frantically kicked off from the bed, putting his back to the wall next to the door. 

Ray swallowed hard and swiftly ejected the clip. A quick glance down showed it it was full. Breathing heavily, Ray reloaded and chambered a round automatically, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

Who were they? Did it even matter? They were there, and they had to know who's apartment they were in. Otherwise they wouldn't have waited until the Vagabond left. It didn't sound like they were expecting someone else there though, talking too easily and confidently. Not ready for an attack. 

Ray thumbed the safety off, feeling himself steady as footsteps came closer. One set tapped onto the tile in the bathroom, another kept going, getting louder as they approached the bedroom. Ray got his legs under him and aimed the gun up. As soon as he saw the head pass the threshold he fired. 

The shot blew apart the guy's head and he crumpled. Ray didn't waste any time, springing to his feet and through the door, firing at the figure at the end of the hall before that man got his gun up. Twisting, Ray dashed to the bathroom entrance. He paused for half a second before rushing in, surprising the final guy there. One shot and he was dead. 

Everything went still. Panting, Ray clutched the gun and listened to the sudden ringing silence. Floors down, a baby started crying. 

_Shit!_ The panic pushed any calmness out of Ray's brain in a wave of white-hot terror. _Everyone heard that. Someone's calling the cops right now. Fifteen minutes‒ no, ten. Less. Get out._

Ray twisted and stumbled back to the hall, back to his room, past the body on the floor, heart pounding. _They're coming. Get out._ From under his bed he grabbed a duffle bag and threw it on the bed. The armfuls of clothes from the dresser he didn't bother taking the time to fold and sort. It didn't matter. He had to get out. 

Ray scrambled back under the bed for his gun case. He wrenched it open and yanked the pieces from their slots, shoving them in the crook of his arm while he found the strips of double sided velcro wedged in a ridge. Ray swore as he wasted seconds peeling it apart from itself. He could feel the clock ticking. 

He finally got it all apart, and wrapped it securely around the pieces of his gun. He snapped the sling to the main body, and tore off his hoodie, which he only then realized was covered in blood. So were his sweatpants. _Shit._ He didn't have time for this. Ray found his jeans and yanked them on and grabbed a dark hoodie from the end of the bed. He slung his gun over his head and shoulder, adjusting it across the center of his back. When he pulled the hoodie on and zipped it, it swamped him, baggy and falling past his hips. He didn't care ‒ it was perfect to hide the outline of the gun. 

The scope and magazine went into the hoodie pockets with the handgun, and Ray dug out his wallet and phone and shoved them in his jeans pockets. The envelope that held the wad of money he had left and all his fake IDs and social security cards was flung into the open duffle. 

Ray went to zip the bag, but paused. He wasn't the only one who had shit here. He swung around the bed to the Vagabond’s side, snatching up his laptop and cords. He wrapped it up in clothes so it wouldn't get bounced around and shoved it in. Good enough. He zipped up the bag and rushed out of the room. 

By the front door, sitting by his shoes, a tidy black backpack was waiting. The Vagabond already had his jump bag packed and ready in case he needed to flee. Ray threw it over his shoulder and left the apartment at a sprint. He didn't bother to turn out the lights. 

The back staircase didn't have cameras, so Ray took that route, pounding down the steps and almost falling several times. No one saw him leave. Ray hit the street and slowed to a walk, forcing his panic down in his chest. He had to act normally. By the time he heard sirens, he was already three blocks away. 

~*~ 

_Fuck._ Ray walked aimlessly, trying not to fully freak out. But that was growing steadily impossible, as everything that happened caught up and slammed into him. He'd killed, again ‒ technically defending his home, but no one would fucking buy that. Not if they knew he rented the apartment under a false name, not with a professional sniper rifle under the bed and a former reputation that went with it. 

He had no choice but to run, and now he was cut loose, with no plan. Oh yeah, and homeless, again. It had sucked before, but now he was fully screwed. He had barely any money left, no friends to couch-surf, nowhere to go with a bag full of guns and god knew what else of the Vagabond’s stuff. 

The Vagabond. Had he planned this? No, they were past that, right? And if the Vagabond was gonna kill Ray he'd already had a million opportunities. And Ray was pretty sure he would have warned him if there were people over, so Ray probably hadn't killed some associates of his. Maybe. He didn't fucking know, hadn't bothered to think of the Vagabond as a criminal and not just some weirdly close roommate for a while. Maybe the Vagabond was shit enough to do it. 

He'd have good reason to. Ray had seen his face, knew all his secrets. He could have gone to the cops anytime and given them all the intel he had. He still could, if he wasn't positive they'd arrest him immediately. But surely they'd lighten his sentence, if they didn't kill him before the Vagabond got his chance. 

Ray could picture that so clearly. The Vagabond wouldn't let something like that go. His vengeance would come swift and final. The last thing he'd see would the skull mask behind a gun pointed straight at him. And he would die knowing, behind the mask, how much hurt would be on his face. 

No. It wouldn't be the Vagabond behind this. They had a thing. He hadn't fucked with Ray, not once. He never tried to hide from Ray, he'd been there for every freak-out. He wouldn't put a hit out on Ray, not with all his own stuff still in the apartment. Those guys had probably been after the Vagabond, probably just some of his many enemies. He probably didn't even know what had happened. He didn't know Ray was out on the street with his stuff and no fucking clue what to do. 

Ray had to alert him, before he went back to the apartment and found it crawling with cops. He already had his phone in hand before his brain caught up. The Vagabond was on a job, probably right in the middle of it at this point. Ray couldn't just call him. 

His hands were shaking. Ray realized he had stopped walking, right between a sick-looking tree and a pile of trash. The hoodie and the weight of the guns did nothing to make him feel protected. This was not a good neighborhood to just hang out in. Ray could feel eyes on him already. He started walking again, trying to keep his panic out of his steps. He had nowhere to go. He had no other options. 

Ray opened his text messages, holding his thumb down over the skull emoji in the contact name until the number came up. Before he lost his nerve, Ray hit the call icon and pressed the phone to his ear, hating how stupid this was. He was calling a mercenary that never talked. He should text him but his hands were still shaking too much. Maybe he could just leave a voicemail. 

The line stopped ringing, and Ray waited for the automatic message to start. There wasn't one. Over the line, Ray could hear the familiar silence of an open line. The Vagabond had actually picked up. 

“The apartment’s fucked,” Ray blurted out. “Some guys came in, I got them but I had to get out‒” Ray swallowed, trying to fight down the word vomit‒ “I'm on the street now, I've got your stuff but I don't…I don't...” Ray’s voice died as he struggled for breath. What the fuck was he doing? 

“Fuck,” Ray breathed and hung up. He had to be real about this. The Vagabond wasn't going to help him, even if he showed up. He probably didn't really care, he probably had other hideouts and could just find a new place to live, alone, like he probably wanted to be. He could get new things. He wouldn't give a shit about the depressed roommate he used to have. 

Ray was on his own. He should probably get to the homeless shelter and get in line, or get some shitty little hotel room‒ 

His phone buzzed. Ray blinked hard against the stupid tears that threatened to spill when he looked down at the text bubble that had appeared under the first. 

**Find somewhere to wait. I'll be there in a few hours**

Ray swallowed. So the Vagabond was coming. Was that a good thing or not? He could be coming to help, or he could still be looking to take Ray out. He was a loose end, the only one who could tell the cops about the Vagabond and what he was really like under the mask. It'd be perfectly easy for him to take back his stuff and leave Ray dead in an alley. But at least then he wouldn't have to worry about what happened next. 

_Find somewhere to wait…_ Ray’s options were pretty limited in this neighborhood. He changed directions, heading towards the nice part of the city. There was a college there, he could find some park bench or cheap store to loiter in without looking too out of place. He hoped. 

It took longer than he expected to get there. He knew he was out of shape after months of inactivity indoors, and the heat reflecting off the buildings was making him sweat and pant as his feet ached. But he couldn't stop, or change, or even risk catching the bus. Ray just kept walking, head down, just another unfriendly face in the growing crowd. 

By the time he found some cute little coffee shop by the college campus, Ray’s legs were ready to give out. He stumbled up to the counter and ordered a smoothie, wincing at the price. He hadn't been thinking and had stumbled into some overpriced lofty place with perky hipster baristas behind the counter. At least he didn't look like the youngest person there. 

Ray found a squishy leather chair in the back, with a good enough view of the window. The duffle bag rested on the floor, one strap tangled around his foot, while the black backpack stayed in his lap. Ray chugged at his frozen drink and pulled out his phone, shaking his head against the brainfreeze. After looking up the address online and texting it to the Vagabond, Ray settled back in the chair to wait. 

It sucked. He couldn't leave his seat to go to the bathroom, in case someone took his stuff or went through it. He couldn't relax because his gun was biting into his back, and he couldn't move it without it being obvious. His phone was quickly losing battery, and Ray couldn't even remember if he packed his charger. And even if he had, idly flipping through the internet wasn't helping with his anxiety. 

Ray stared out the window, watching other people go on with their normal lives and hating himself. He hated the feeling of uncertainty that covered him like a wet blanket, heavy and suffocating. It was so easy in the apartment to not think about anything, and ignore the reality that he couldn't live the rest of his life holed up in there. He knew he'd have to leave eventually, or die. And at the time, dying didn't seem like a bad idea. 

Now he was out on the streets again, no job prospects or anywhere to go back to. Thinking of the future made him sick to the stomach. Where was he going to go? What was he going to do? How long would he be left to wallow in doubt, until the Vagabond showed up to get his stuff and killed him or left him? 

Even if he lived, was the Vagabond going to be nice enough to give Ray a break after this? He only knew him as a weird depressed roommate ‒ how would the Vagabond treat him as a washed-up sniper who was a potential rival? If Ray started doing jobs again ‒ and he had to, he didn't even have a high school degree and sniping didn't exactly translate easily into any other job market ‒ he might get hired someday to take out the Vagabond. 

That hurt more to think about than the idea of the Vagabond shooting him did. Ray pictured seeing the skull mask between the crosshairs of his scope, and felt like throwing up when his stomach cramped. There wasn't enough money or stability in the world to make him do that. But would the Vagabond return the favor? 

He was wearing his hoodie, Ray realized dimly. He'd tried to stick his thumbs through the holes he always wore in the sleeves of all his hoodies, but they weren't there. It wasn't his hoodie, it was the Vagabond’s. No wonder the fit was off, the hoodie had to be at least two sizes bigger than he was. 

Ray thumped his head on the squishy leather cushion behind his head. Of fucking course he couldn't even get dressed right. 

More time passed. Ray watched the after work mob rush past the windows; men and women in business suits, intermingled with students. People so far removed from the crimes that kept the country running that they only saw it on the news. He got up for another smoothie, watching his stuff like a hawk from the counter. The girls behind the counter kept sending him looks, no doubt wondering what he was doing there for so long. They probably thought he was homeless. They weren't far off. 

One came snooping by under the guise of sweeping. The store was emptying, getting closer to closing time. Ray didn't have much longer he could lurk. The barista took away the first empty cup, tossing it away for him. “You got something fun planned for this weekend?” she asked with a customer-service smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Was it the weekend? Ray didn't even know what day it was, but he knew a probing question when he heard one. “Yeah. Just waiting for my friend to get here,” Ray half-heartedly assured her. His voice sounded as dead as he felt. She made a perturbed face and left him alone, and Ray returned to staring out the window. 

Where the fuck was the Vagabond? Ray could feel despair settling in his bones, draining his hopes. The idea of texting and asking was too pathetic to even consider, if the Vagabond really wasn't coming. What a fucking joke. He didn't fucking care. 

Trying to keep his eyes from watering, Ray glared at the people walking past. His jaw ached with the strain. Some business guy in a suit walked past talking on the phone, some hipster teenagers lazily wandering by. Ray focused on the details, not wanting to think anymore. Frazzled mom with some bright pink kid trailing behind. Some guy rushing past too fast to see, another couple of businessmen‒ 

The shop door dinged open, and the first guy entered, looking around frantically. His eyes landed on Ray and focused like a laser beam. It was the Vagabond. Ray jerked up in his seat, kicking himself for not recognizing him again. Even as relief flooded through him, Ray felt dread building up. This was it. This was gonna suck. 

Before Ray could even get out of the chair properly, the Vagabond had gotten through the maze of tables to reach him. Ray didn't understand the look on his face, wide-eyed and flushed, but his movements didn't seem angry. The Vagabond barely stopped when he reached him, rushing right up into Ray's personal space and grabbing him. Ray startled when arms wrapped around his back, and he was being crushed to the Vagabond’s chest. 

Ray just stood there, confused as fuck, the black backpack dangling from his fingers. The Vagabond was breathing hard ‒ Ray could feel it where his cheek was pressed to the slightly-damp fabric of his shirt. One hand he could feel was fisted in the hoodie’s fabric at his back. The other arm was around his shoulders, hand in his hair, stroking slightly. 

The Vagabond was hugging him. Ray blinked hard, trying not to freak out. This couldn't be happening. The Vagabond didn't fucking hug people, for fuck’s sake. But he was holding Ray so tight he could barely breathe, like he wasn't ever going to let go. Ray swallowed hard, feeling the space in his chest trying to expand. He raised his free arm to wrap it around the Vagabond’s back. The Vagabond sighed shakily and pressed his cheek to the top of Ray's head. 

_Oh._

All the tension flowed out of Ray, even the deep dark thoughts that never shut up. He leaned all of his weight against the Vagabond, who just kept holding him up and didn't let go. Jesus Christ it felt way too good, in the kind of way that wasn't meant to, like it was only ever going to happen once. But he ignored the feeling, and the way tears were poking at his eyelids, and let himself actually feel safe for a minute. 

“I'm alright,” Ray mumbled into his shirt. And it was only sorta a lie. The Vagabond pulled back to give him a look that said he clearly didn't believe Ray, but was going to let it pass. He snatched the duffle bag from the floor and kept his arm around Ray's shoulders as they weaved their way out the door. 

The Vagabond kept his arm in place once they were out on the sidewalk, steering him firmly in a way that felt like relief to give in to. It was like the time they were out on a job together ‒ the Vagabond led and Ray didn't have to worry about where they were going. He brought him to an anonymous little car and placed the duffel bag in the backseat, then stepped back and nodded for Ray to put the backpack there too. 

There wasn't room on the seats, so Ray shoved it in the footwell, next to another black bag. That bag was open, and Ray froze when he recognized the jacket haphazardly shoved in there. It was unmistakably the missing piece of the Vagabond’s outfit. The mask had to be there too. He'd actually left mid-job to get Ray. 

Ray straightened, trying to swallow down the tightness in his throat. The Vagabond was watching him, and Ray didn't want to break down in front of him, not there, so he got into the front seat without any reaction. Still, the Vagabond seemed to have a good idea what was actually going on in his brain. Once the car was moving, driving across the city, the Vagabond reached his hand over and wrapped it around Ray's.

That was...Ray couldn't think of that as normal. Nothing the Vagabond had done so far was normal. The hug and the job-bailing, and even the fucking cuddling so long ago that morning. Ray didn't even know anymore. He would suspect he wasn't really the Vagabond, except Ray knew his face and knew he wasn't a fake. So unless something else was up… 

Ray couldn't think about it. He didn't want to think about it. He stayed slumped in his seat, even when they drove past the street the apartment was on. The Vagabond turned his head to glance down the street at the cop cars and crime scene people, and drove on. Ray swallowed down his guilt and stared straight ahead. 

He didn't know where they were going. And since the Vagabond was taking him, he didn't want to ask. He just went along with it. 

~*~ 

They were in the next state over by the time the Vagabond finally pulled into some crummy motel. It wasn't what Ray had expected ‒ honestly, once they were off the main roads, he kept expecting them to pull into a field and be left for dead. But that didn't seem to be the case. 

The Vagabond unloaded the backseat, giving Ray the two backpacks to carry. The second bag, the one that held the Vagabond’s criminal uniform, was surprisingly heavy, and Ray could only imagine what was in it. 

They walked up to the office together, the Vagabond so close he was almost stepping on Ray. He stayed close when Ray approached the bored girl at the counter, pulling what was left of his brain together to get a room. It was mind-numbingly easy, but Ray was still feeling the stress. She asked for an ID, and Ray slid her his drivers license before he remembered it was his real one. 

_Shit._ It wasn't connected to the apartment, but there were people out there who knew that name. The Vagabond gave the card more than a curious glance, and Ray wondered if this was the first time he was seeing it. He'd had plenty of opportunities to snoop before, when Ray was asleep, or even by looking him up on his laptop. But the way he was looking at it, then at Ray, like he was matching the face with the name, said something else. 

Did the Vagabond really not know his name before? It wasn't like they were ever formally introduced, and Ray had been fine thinking of him as the Vagabond for the last few months. But had the Vagabond really not bothered to get his name before this? Ray almost laughed at the idea. Did the Vagabond just never get around to it or just didn't care? 

Ray had enough cash to cover the room and the deposit, and the lady warned them that they wouldn't get it back if the room was damaged. Like it even mattered. She gave them their room keys, and the Vagabond took the lead out of the office. The room they had gotten was at the far end of the building on the second floor, by the staircase. Ray instinctively noted it as a potential escape route, and knew the Vagabond did the same. 

It wasn't until the door closed behind them that Ray realized he'd effectively stuck himself in a room with the Vagabond, and everything had changed. He still had no fucking clue what to make of the hug and his other actions. He couldn't expect to just jump back into the habits they'd had in the apartment. The frigid uncertainty fell over him again, nailing him to the floor. 

Before Ray could turn around, he felt the weight of the backpacks lift from his shoulders. The Vagabond threw them on the second bed with a thump. Ray could feel his stare on the back of his head, and kept his eyes on the grimy bedcover when the Vagabond circled to stand in front of him, never losing focus on Ray. 

Ray watched the Vagabond’s hands reach out and take ahold of the hoodie, holding the bottom in one hand while the other pulled the zipper down. Ray didn't even flinch when the Vagabond reached for his gun’s sling, unlatching it so he could pull the gun away from Ray's body without taking the hoodie off. The Vagabond was still staring at him, trying to meet his eyes, but Ray couldn't bring himself to even move. He didn't want to know what was on his face. 

The sniper rifle was put on the bed next to the bags, and the Vagabond pulled the clip and scope from the hoodie next, giving them both a quick professional glance. He probably knew they were there when he had hugged Ray. Finally, he pulled out the handgun, checking the safety and ejecting the clip, checking how many bullets were left. 

Once that was done, the Vagabond rezipped the hoodie. He didn't even seem to notice or care that it wasn't Ray’s. Putting one hand firmly on Ray's shoulder, the Vagabond pushed in order to turn him around, and pushed again to make him sit on the free bed. The hand squeezed, a very obvious order to stay, before it drifted up. The Vagabond smoothed his hand over Ray's cheek, gently running it up to brush over his hair, settling gently on top of his head. Ray had to fight to not give in and lean into it. 

He turned away, and Ray watched dimly as the Vagabond unpacked the contents of the duffle bag, folding each piece of clothing and putting them in orderly piles. The laptop was retrieved and plugged back in, and the Vagabond actually smiled at Ray when he recovered it. Once the duffle was empty, the Vagabond unpacked his jacket and mask and emptied that bag. There were more guns, which Ray expected, but also knives. There were even more in his jump bag, and folders holding some official-looking paperwork. Probably his fake IDs and shit. 

It was weird, considering the Vagabond was known to be a knife guy, but Ray hadn't seen a single one in the apartment since the first time he was threatened with one. He'd also never seen the second bag before, or the mask and jacket since the first night. 

That meant he'd been keeping all his stuff in his car, not in the apartment, just because Ray had asked to be left out of it. It would have been so much easier to ignore Ray, and keep his stuff somewhere much safer than the backseat of a car, but he hadn't. Ray’s throat threatened to close off completely, but he forced himself to talk anyway. 

“So, what happens now?” 

His question made the Vagabond tense up. Ray could see the his shoulders bunch under his shirt. Ray didn't want to ask it either, but he felt like he would have started screaming if he didn't get it out. The Vagabond pulled out his phone almost reluctantly, and took his time typing a message. When he turned to extend his phone for Ray to read, he didn't meet his eye.

 **I'm going to find whoever did this and make them pay**

A very Vagabond response. Ray didn't expect anything else. Anyone who crossed the Vagabond got got, end of discussion. “I wanna help.” 

That made the Vagabond turn to look at him questioningly. Ray didn't blame him ‒ the words had shot out without him thinking. “It was my apartment, too,” he offered lamely. That was true, but not the reason he wanted to help. It was just a good excuse for them to stick together. They'd already worked well together once. Might as well team up for a job that was personal for both of them. 

The Vagabond pulled back his phone, and took even longer tying a reply. There was something very final on his face when he let Ray read the message. **I can get you a new place.**

“No,” Ray blurted out. Not that, that wasn't what he wanted. He struggled to get it out so the Vagabond would understand, and get that sad look off his face. “I was...that apartment, I didn't mean to be stuck there for as long as I did, I just wanted to lay low for a while and not think about...stuff. But then I couldn't leave, I could barely fucking get up. I just...couldn't. 

“I knew I couldn't stay there forever ‒ I was running out of money and couldn't do the lease for another year. But I just couldn't deal with the idea of going out and starting from scratch again.” Ray swallowed, getting too close to things he didn't want to talk about. “But I'm out now, and if I have this as a job to do, then I can deal with it.” He raised his head, wondering if any of that made sense to the Vagabond. “At least I know I'm still a good shot. That's something, right?” 

The resigned looked turned considering. Ray held his breath as the Vagabond turned to look at his disassembled gun, sitting on the other bed. This was the Vagabond’s decision, whether to risk it taking on Ray or not. Ray hoped...he couldn't hope that everything would be okay, but he could hope that the Vagabond would give him this chance. 

The Vagabond typed on his phone for a long time before he turned back and thrust it back towards Ray. **You're short on ammo. Make a list of everything you're going to need, and we'll get it tomorrow**

Ray sighed shakily. That was as close to a yes that he was going to get. Ray got to his feet, fishing out his own phone, which was nearly dead. The Vagabond handed him a charger without needing to be asked, hand brushing over his. Shaking off his rush of relief, Ray plugged it in and pulled up a note doc. He typed in the ammo specs, then considered what else was on the bed. He'd grabbed plenty of shirts, but no underwear. He didn't have a mask either, or his contact lenses, which were easier to shoot in. It hadn't even occurred to him at the time. 

He felt...not better, exactly. There was still the unshakable question of where he was standing with the Vagabond ‒ as a friend or something, or just someone the Vagabond was tolerating? But for now he had a clear task, and something in the immediate future that he was pretty sure he could handle. Maybe. As long as the Vagabond still okay with him. But just having something to do, with a clear goal, was enough to ground him. 

The Vagabond gave up organizing their things when he saw that Ray had it. He went instead to his laptop and began tapping away. Ray knew what he was doing ‒ finding out what he could so far about who broke into the apartment. Anyone who was stupid enough to go after the Vagabond at his home base was asking to get their asses murdered. This was the ruthlessness the Vagabond was known for, and if Ray was in any mood for pity, he'd feel bad for whoever was going to have the Vagabond bearing down on them. 

He wasn't, though ‒ Ray was pissed. It had taken a while to get it going, long-buried under depression apathy, but now anger was growing warm in Ray's chest. Those fuckers had driven him out of his home, just when he was starting to feel better. He left his video games, which really pissed him off, but they also made him feel like he was mentally back to square one. And they'd tried to hurt the Vagabond at the one place he could really relax at. That was a real dick move. He could feel the anger burning for both their sakes. 

The Vagabond waved his hand to get his attention from his stuff. Ray wandered over to where the Vagabond was perched on the end of the other bed, laptop sitting gingerly on his thighs. He tilted the screen so Ray could see easily. It was some sort of official memo from Liberty City’s police, identifying three bodies found shot in an apartment. That was quick. 

There were three mugshots at the bottom of the text. Ray had only gotten a glimpse of their faces in the apartment, but he'd recognize them anywhere. “That's them,” he confirmed. Probably just some mercs hired by someone who was after the Vagabond, who actually had no idea what they'd signed up for. Sucked to be them. 

The Vagabond nodded, scrolling back up and highlighting a paragraph that indicated in no uncertain terms that the shots that had killed them had been nothing short of professional. He raised his eyebrows at Ray, clearly saying without words that he was impressed. 

Smiling weakly while his face heated up, Ray turned to go back to their stuff, but the Vagabond caught him by the sleeve, pulling his attention back to the screen. He switched tabs to the webpage of a national pizza chain, showing Ray a pizza order. It took Ray a few seconds, but once he got it he nodded in agreement. “That looks good.” 

It was turning into some kind of fucked up tradition for them. Crime and pizza. Ray could take that. He shoved a few stacks of shirts back into the duffle bag, unhappily aware that with two beds in the room, there was no reason for the Vagabond to share a bed with him. He should be happy to have his own space again, but if he was honest, he didn't. 

The Vagabond got up when he saw what Ray was doing. He thought he was going to help organize shit, but when Ray looked over, he saw the Vagabond had his phone waiting with a message for him. There was an oddly hesitant look on his face. **You won't have a problem working with me will you? You know what kind of reputation I have**

Ray eyed the message, then glanced up at the Vagabond. He wasn't sure if it was a serious question or not. Of course he knew, but it had stopped mattering ages ago. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said firmly. And he meant it, with every bit of his resolve. Fuck, he was finally feeling secure enough to willingly go back to his old life, did the Vagabond really think he was gonna fuck off _now_? 

His anxiety swooped in at that moment, like a blanket of doubt, and he couldn't stop himself from asking the question that'd been haunting him. “You won't have a problem with me either, will you?” he asked less confidently. He hated asking, hated that time earlier in the afternoon when he wasn't sure if the other man was coming. But he had to ask. 

The Vagabond took his phone back and typed a reply in record time. **No. I know what you're capable of. You're the only person I know I can trust.**

Seeing those words made Ray's heart lurch and face turn red. Before he could make some joke or say anything to clear the suddenly tense air, someone knocked at the door. Ray moved to get it, sensing that the Vagabond had grabbed a gun and moved into cover position. It wasn't necessary, of course, because it was just the tired-looking pizza guy, but Ray appreciated the Vagabond having his back.

They ate pizza reclined on the same bed. The Vagabond returned his focus to his computer, the single-minded intensity Ray had seen before. He was hunting down the people behind this mess, and closing in. Ray turned the ancient TV on to some adult cartoon he used to watch and tried to get back into it while ignoring the murder being plotted next to him.

Somewhere in the middle of a commercial, Ray was dimly aware he was falling asleep, half-sitting up in bed, and he tried to fight it off. That only lasted until the show’s return ‒ Ray really tried to focus, but it wasn't happening. The show’s dialogue and the intermittent tapping on the keyboard weren't strong enough to keep him awake.

Ray nodded awake again, feeling that something had changed. The TV was off, and the bed felt different. The weight against his side was gone, and Ray could hear the Vagabond rummaging around the stuff on the other bed. Ray felt bad about hogging the bed, and was about to sit up to get out of the way when he felt tugging at his shoes. The Vagabond pulled them off, and then his hands slid up Ray's legs to his waist. 

The feeling of hands on his waistband almost made Ray flinch away, but he held still, trying desperately to act like he was still asleep. With little fuss, the Vagabond just pulled his pants off, then pulled the sheets over his body. Tucking him in. Then the Vagabond’s footstep moved away, and the bathroom door squeaked closed. 

Ray laid in the near-dark while the shower started. He was too awake now, and he couldn't stop his brain from running at a million miles an hour. Even if he was safe now, he still felt uneasy. Things seemed to be working out, but Ray couldn't believe it would be that simple. The Vagabond could change his mind, or remember that he didn't deal with people for a reason. They both knew that out in the criminal world, there was no place for any good relationship. Even the closest got pulled apart eventually ‒ Ray knew that all too well. And he knew he was fucked because that idea hurt too much to think about.

Ray swallowed down the lump in his throat, flipping over so he could press his face into the pillow. He had to remember that things were different between them. The Vagabond had done everything he could to calm Ray down, and reassure him that they were still sticking together. And he'd come back for Ray, even if it probably cost him a job. That had to mean something, but Ray couldn't bring himself to ask what.

He trusted Ray. Fucking hell, the Vagabond did want him around, even after everything that had happened. Ray was surprised at the sudden flare of warmth from the chest, accompanying a weird sense of pride. The Vagabond fucking trusted him. Ray had what no one else in the world had, and there was no way in hell he was going to give that up.

The shower squeaked off, and the Vagabond finally emerged, wearing the one shirt of his that Ray managed to pack and a pair of boxers. His hair was down and wet around his shoulders. Ray stared at his face, the one he'd never tried to hide from him, and watched the way it softened when he saw Ray laying there.

Ray squeezed his eyes closed and tried to go back to sleep while he listened to the lights click off. It was a bad sign of how he felt that he was disappointed at the idea of sleeping alone. But instead of making room on the second bed, like Ray fully expected, the mattress on the other side of his bed sunk down. The Vagabond tugged half-heartedly at the sheets Ray had twisted around himself, and finally flopped down on his side, close to Ray.

Ray grinned to himself. He was glad he was there, even if there was no reason for him to be. It's like he knew how to make Ray feel better.

The hand on the back of his head didn't surprise him, because he was waiting for it. The Vagabond stroked firmly through the strands, hard enough to wake him if he'd been asleep, but comforting and familiar. Ray couldn't stop the grin from growing as he cracked an eye open. The Vagabond was watching him, eyes soft and still worried.

Ray scooched forward on the bed, into the Vagabond's space, guided by the pressure of his hand. He was pressed warmly against his side, and the Vagabond wrapped his arms around Ray like it was natural. It really wasn't any different that the cuddling, or the hug, but it felt weirdly more intimate to be pressed chest to chest. 

But Ray didn't care. He raised his hand to move some of the wet hair strands out of his face. He'd always secretly wanted to get his hands on that hair. It was as soft as he hoped it'd be. After that, Ray slumped bonelessly against the Vagabond's strong chest, feeling weirdly comfortable and less awkward than he expected. He threw an arm over the Vagabond's side, and felt the happy sigh that slipped out of him.

This was okay. 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank all you lovely people who read, commented, re-read, re-commented, and left kudos. You're all amazing people who deserve nice things. I want to gather you all up for (platonic) hugs and kisses and allergen-free snacks.
> 
> So this part of the fic deals with recovery, and as anyone who's gone through that knows, it sucks. It's not great, sometimes it doesn't work and doesn't go as planned. And that's okay. Just be prepared for more negative thoughts and upsetting themes.

Bad. Very bad. Possibly the worst thing that could ever happen. Holy _shit_.

Ray held his breath and tried to squirm away, just to get some space, but it didn't work. The Vagabond had him in a death grip against his body, arms holding him tight, even while still asleep. He was so close Ray could feel the heat of his body, feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed, the warmth of his breath stirring his hair. 

It was really fucking nice, he had to admit. The kind of comfortable that made him just want to relax and fall back asleep again. Warm and safe. Just perfect.

Except that his fucking boner was kinda ruining the moment. And being pressed up against the other guy really wasn’t helping the situation.

Ray tried again to loosen the Vagabond's hold, and managed to squirm around so he was in little spoon position. But then his ass was pressed to the Vagabond's groin, and maybe there was some evidence that this wasn't totally one sided but _holy shit_ he had to get away before things got any worse. 

Fuck subtlety. Ray forcibly removed the arm around his midsection and lunged out. He thought he heard the Vagabond grumble and try to pull him back as he stumbled to his feet, but he didn’t stop to check before he scurried to the bathroom. He didn’t even take the time to grab his glasses, so he ended up banging into the wall a bit. But at least he was out of there.

Safe in the bathroom, Ray thumbed the lock and leaned back against the door. He knew even without looking in the blurry mirror that his face was bright red. His hair felt like it was standing straight up from sleep, and there was a totally unattractive patch of hair on his face. A gross depressing mess that shouldn’t see the light of day, much less be allowed to cuddle with a fucking hot guy.

And he still had a boner. Fuck.

Ray groaned hard and pressed his hands to his face. Everything was so fucked up, and it so wasn't fair. He wanted go back to bed, curl up close to the Vagabond again and just let whatever happen just happen, so he could stop thinking about it all the time. Maybe it would be sex, but honestly he just wanted to be held some more, just to feel close and safe again. He wanted it so much that it made his chest hurt.

But he couldn't. After everything that happened, he _could not_ fuck it up with the Vagabond. The guy was going to let him tag along on his revenge-killing-spree and that was great, but Ray's useless ass was going to have a hard enough time keeping up and proving his worth as it was. He couldn't ruin it by wanting anything else. After everything he'd done, he didn't have that right.

And honestly, he couldn't see how the Vagabond would even be interested in him. No sane person would be. He just had to accept that and stop wishing the Vagabond would fuck him until he couldn't walk. Easy.

At least he could do something about one of his issues. He felt disgusting, dried sweat from the day before lingering on his skin with an unhealthy layer of oil. He had to get cleaned up, start looking acceptable again. The Vagabond needed him to get his shit together, at least enough to function like a normal person. It was honestly the last thing he wanted to do, but damn it, he had to. It'd suck, but he'd do it.

Ray leaned over and started the shower, which shuddered to life and spat out a stream of water with a hiss. He hadn't packed any soap or shit, but at least this hotel had the complimentary stuff. It was little and cheap, just like him. He couldn't complain.

The back of his mind winced when he stepped into the shower, imagining the layer of germs that had to be covering the plastic floor. But there was so much shit going on in his head that he just couldn’t care. Just getting under the spray felt like heaven. Ray bit his lip at the sensation it sent straight to his boner. He was honestly the worst, getting it up over some guy who probably couldn't stand him. His dick was just as fucked up as he was.

He got off, but he didn’t let himself enjoy it. Quick and fast motions, then a rush of release he didn't dwell on. He very deliberately didn't think about the guy in the other room. He didn't have that right.

Ray toweled off with the paper-thin scratchy towels, squinting at the mirror. He really fucking needed to shave. He hated having a nasty scraggly beard, but he hadn't kept up trimming very well over the last few weeks. It was possible, maybe, that the Vagabond had something he could use. Just to get cleaned up enough to look at his own face without cringing too hard.

Tentatively, Ray cracked the door open. The last thing he wanted was to run headfirst into the Vagabond. Again. But the room was still dark, the lump under the blankets unmoved. Ray tiptoed softly to his side of the bed to snatch up his glasses. Finally able to see, he turned to the second bed. Guilt crept up over him as he stared at the piles of stuff. He didn't want to go poking around in the Vagabond’s things. Maybe he could just skip the shaving for now‒

Something tugged at the towel around his waist. Ray almost lept out of his skin and spun around. The Vagabond blinked sleepily at him, one arm still stretched out and his long hair fanned across the pillow. Fucking romance-novel-cover-looking asshole.

“Do you have shaving stuff?” Ray asked softly, just to stop himself from staring like an idiot. The Vagabond nodded and closed his eyes. His arm moved and he pointed at a zipped up black case.

That was close enough to permission for him. Ray opened it and was completely unsurprised to find a straight razor.

“Seriously?” Ray deadpanned. The Vagabond hid his grin in the pillow. “Well, I don't know how to use one of these, so I guess you're stuck with my ugly face for a while.” Ray tossed the case back on the bed and went to grab some clothes, but stopped when the Vagabond stumbled out of bed. He grabbed the case and gestured at Ray to get back to the bathroom. The Vagabond followed him in there, pulling the door shut behind him.

Ray felt his heart quicken. Maybe he was gonna get his throat slit after all. Or maybe he was about to embarrass the ever-loving fuck out of himself. That was worse.

It was the dumbest fucking situation he could have gotten himself into. The two of them barely fit in the bathroom together so their knees and hips kept bumping as they jostled into place in front of the mirror. The Vagabond looked so sleep-rumpled and soft and it was _not helping_ the situation. Ray tried his best not to look at him but the Vagabond tilted his head up so he could smear the cheap soap all over his skin. Ray shivered at the touch, mentally cursing at his body over the reaction. He was so screwed.

The Vagabond handled the blade with all the confidence in the world, a serious look on his face as he worked to make Ray presentable. Ray tried not to tense over each scrape of the blade over his skin, the careful way the Vagabond turned his head as he went. The Vagabond’s eyes were soft but focused, like nothing was more important than getting this right. He even somehow trimmed the bits of his goatee so it wasn't so scruffy. Amazing. 

When he finally pulled back, Ray ran his hands all over his face with a smile, enjoying the feeling.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said, putting as much sincerity into his voice as he could. The Vagabond just smiled and ruffled his still-wet hair, making Ray swear and flail at him. Still grinning, he pushed Ray out of the bathroom so he could take his turn, closing the door behind him.

Well...that hadn't been terrible. And at least he hadn't popped another boner while getting shaved. That would have just been too much.

~*~

When the Vagabond got out of the bathroom, Ray was sitting up on the bed and waiting for him, dressed in his hoodie and feeling really damn guilty about it. But he hadn’t grabbed any of his own hoodies during the mad rush out of the apartment and he didn’t...feel right not wearing one in public. In the back of his brain he knew the hoodie was no more bulletproof than any other fabric, but he just couldn’t go out without one.

Thank God the Vagabond didn’t seem to notice or care. He got dressed (and Ray became very focused on his phone because _oh fuck_ ) in his casual clothes. He looked like some stupid grown-up frat boy, and it was totally unfair that he could ever look so good.

They got out of the hotel soon after that, headed towards the part of the town they had stopped in that had all the big box stores. Nice anonymous places where no one gave a shit if you were basically buying everything you'd need to start a new life.

They didn't need to talk or plan out who needed what. Ray already knew their preferred brands and exactly what they were missing. He led the way through the toiletries aisles, grabbing things and chucking them in the cart the Vagabond was pushing, watching Ray with a bemused grin. He very carefully avoided even looking over at the condom racks.

They moved on to the clothing section. The Vagabond aimed immediately for the underwear aisle, and Ray followed with some kind of agonizing dread. God, if he thought shit was awkward before, being in the underwear aisle together just topped the fucking list. It felt _way_ too intimate ‒ even though he’d always suspected the Vagabond was a briefs man, he didn't need to see the confirmation getting bought.

He avoided eye contact while throwing a pack of boxers for himself in the cart. The Vagabond tried to add in a novelty pair covered in ghosts for him, before Ray knocked them out of his hand. “You’re such an asshole,” he grumbled, but smiled anyway. It was progress.

They split up after that, because the Vagabond had an entire wardrobe to restock while Ray just needed his hoodies. He grabbed five from the racks, making sure at least two were black. The Vagabond might have his distinctive jacket and look going on, but Ray would just stick to things that would let him blend in to the background. The less he was seen, the better.

The Vagabond made no comment about all the hoodies when he watched Ray add them to the cart. He had a ton of clothes already picked out, and dragged Ray determinedly over to the changing room to make him wait while he tried stuff on. Ray fiddled with his phone, feeling both bored out of his mind and sick to his stomach with worry. Fucking stupid brain. It sucked.

Ray's head shot up when he heard the changing room door open, and his mouth quickly dropped open when he saw what the Vagabond was wearing. Ripped skinny jeans was a really damn good look for him, but it was nothing compared to the shirt, which was pale pink with a _cat_ on it, of all things. The fucker was even posing. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, stunned. Forget how fucking good he looked, he couldn't possibly be considering that shirt as something anyone should wear in public.

The Vagabond just smirked at him, looking way too pleased with himself. Ray was dismayed to see that even under the washed-out fluorescent lights, his face still looked model fucking hot. It was so unfair. Ray was sure in comparison he still looked like a goblin that crawled out of some cave. 

“You look ridiculous. Is that your idea of what ‘normal’ people wear?” The Vagabond shook his head while still grinning, and disappeared back into the changing room. He came out again a few more time with increasingly stupider outfits for Ray to snark at and shoot down. It didn't even occur to him until the Vagabond exited the rooms for good and left a large portion of the clothes to be returned that he was doing it just to make him laugh.

They made it through the rest of the store without incident. The Vagabond had a serious ‘don't-fuck-with-me’ attitude, even without the mask and jacket. Pesky store employees didn't approach them, and even other shoppers gave them a wide berth. Ray loved it.

The worst part was checking out. Ray winced as he watched the price rack up as item after item was scanned through the self-checkout. It was too much of his stuff ‒ he wished he had separated his shit before the Vagabond started scanning, but it was too late and everything was being added into bags together. It wouldn't even have been necessary to get so much shit if he hadn't panicked and taken time to pack shit like an adult. It was money they couldn't afford to spend, since who knew if the Vagabond could take any jobs with someone after him. And Ray was in no shape to be going out and getting money, unless he stood on a street corner in the Vagabond’s skinny jeans.

"I'll pay you back,” he offered guiltily. The Vagabond shook his head, not meeting his eye. Like hell, Ray thought glumly. He already owed the guy for not letting starve over the last months, and for coming to get him after the shitshow the previous day. He'd pay him back for all of it, however he could.

~*~

“So what exactly is the plan?” Ray asked while crunching on a cold fry. “Like, you have one, right? A real sort of plan?”

The Vagabond didn't nod, but the “no shit” look he gave Ray was answer enough. The guy could give some serious side-eye, it was very impressive. They were sitting on the same side of a booth, legs casually pressed together. Their greasy fast food meals were both long over, except for a few stray fries, but they weren't done mooching off the free Wi-Fi yet.

Ray could see the laptop screen from his seat, and he had watched while the Vagabond ordered contacts for him, and a few other things they wouldn't be able to buy at regular stores. He'd made the Vagabond put the contacts on his card, and he had paid for their lunch. Ray’d had the advantage there, since he was the one who had to order for both of them. The Vagabond had glowered over his shoulder, but Ray had swiped his not-really-legally-gained card before he had a chance to step up. That made him feel better.

All the shit they were ordering was being shipped to some P.O. Box down South, so Ray guessed a road trip was part of that plan. He assumed there was some other reason to head there too ‒ hopefully not something along the lines of finding a good spot to hide his body. But hey, that's what he was asking for.

He hoped he was allowed to ask questions, anyway. Fuck, maybe he just should have just kept his mouth shut and followed orders. He'd had few bosses like that in the past, but the Vagabond didn't seem like the type. He hoped.

The Vagabond opened a text doc and started typing. **Step one is to gather supplies. Step two, figure out who's after us. If it's just one person, make an example of them.** Ray snorted at the morbid matter-of-fact step. The Vagabond grinned with him. **If it's a group, it'll be more work, but they'll still pay for this.**

“So where do I fit in?” Ray seriously hated himself for asking, but he had to know. He had to start pulling his weight somehow. “I mean, I don't really do your whole mass destruction thing and stuff, but I can take some people out for you.” That was the Vagabond’s M.O., after all. Anyone who crossed him got got, and hard. Ray had heard stories about him wiping out entire gangs, and knowing the guy the way he did, he was pretty sure they weren't just stories. 

The Vagabond confirmed his thoughts with a nod. **That's what I was thinking**

Ray relaxed, minutely. His one actual skill hadn't been dismissed, that was good. “If it's a gang or something after you, I can try going undercover and find their weaknesses,” he suggested. Fuck, he didn't know, he pretty much had nothing to offer compared to the Vagabond. Goddamn expert, even if he got his ass kicked a lot.

The Vagabond shot down his idea with a shake of his head. Shit. “Why not? Just because you're too pretty to go undercover doesn't mean I can't.” Jokes and flattery, that was enough to make the Vagabond smile and Ray feel better. Really though, Ray had a point, unless the Vagabond was actually able to drop the whole ‘don't-talk’ act, there was no way he could blend in with a gang, unlike Ray who had spent pretty much his whole life learning to fake it to survive.

The Vagabond kept his smile while he typed. **It's a dumb idea but it might work. But that's Plan B. I don't want you going out and risking your ass over this.**

“My ass is perfectly capable of taking care of itself,” Ray shot back.

The Vagabond made a loud snort that sounded very disbelieving.

“I mean doing this kinda thing. Not about, you know, being a functioning human.” Ray’s voice fell flat at the end. He joked about it, but it was true. It was all coming back, just like it had the last few times he'd been out. He knew how to act like a criminal, because he'd been acting that way most of his life. Pretending you were a bigger deal than you really were. That's all it was, except with notable exceptions like the Vagabond. Faking it until you got to the top.

But it didn't feel natural, like it used to. Everything felt off. He used to be good at it, knew how to laugh and bullshit his way through anything. Now it felt like he was trying too hard, like he had to actively force himself to do it. And it was fucking exhausting, but he had to keep it up to keep up with the Vagabond. He had to prove to him that he wasn't a useless sack of shit and was good enough to keep around.

Maybe the Vagabond knew what he was thinking, and that’s why he leaned back enough to rest his arm along the back of the booth, so the warm skin of his arm rested along Ray’s neck. Ray took it as an invitation to slide closer and get comfortable while the Vagabond tracked their trip South on the laptop, noting every stop they'd make. He had a plan, and that plan included Ray. That made him feel a lot more better than it should have.

~*~

Their hotel hideout for the night was even shittier than the last one. Ray hadn't thought that was possible, but there they were, and there was the scuttling of cockroaches that had fled they they turned on the light. The Vagabond looked both furious and disgusted at everything, especially at the sight of the bed, which was covered in stains of questionable origin. Setting it on fire could be considered a mercy kill.

Ray had been just about ready to beg to sleep in the car when the Vagabond shoved his bags into his arms, giving him a look telling him to stay. Ray stood there awkwardly, trying not to touch anything, until the Vagabond came back with his own sheets and blankets. He also brought cleaning supplies, and Ray teased him mercilessly about as they stripped the bed and put the clean stuff on it.

Ray didn't bother to help when the Vagabond went to the bathroom and tried to make the place a little more habitable. He'd just be in the way, and it would piss off the Vagabond. Besides, that sort of thing wasn't his specialty like it was the Vagabond’s. God knew he didn't really care about the state of someone else's bathroom.

He eyed the bed as he changed into his pajamas. It looked even smaller than the one from the apartment, especially once he got on it. And this time they didn't have the possible out of a second bed. And that probably meant more sleep cuddling. And normally he was totally down for that but…

He was now starting to see the full consequences of getting out of the apartment, which apparently meant he'd be spending even more time with the guy he was having some serious feelings over. And there was the whole looming threat of someone out there with a grudge against the Vagabond who had already found him once, when he'd been so careful. Now that he wasn't so choked with panic, Ray knew the smart thing to do would be to take the chance to run, just get away like he should have from the start.

But fuck it. No one had ever called him smart before and he saw no reason to start now.

The Vagabond came back after he cleaned the bathroom, smelling like chemicals. He kicked off his pants casually and fell onto the bed face-first. One hand flailed out, slapping Ray's leg as he tried to grab the blankets. Ray snorted and lifted his hip so he could pull more out from where he'd wrapped them around himself. The Vagabond tried to glare at him, but it was weak, and Ray turned off the light in his face.

Even though he was exhausted after a long day of shopping and being upright, Ray still felt wide awake and wired. He felt like he was way too aware of the Vagabond settling on the other side of the bed, in a way he never had before, even when they first started that nonsense. Ray's stupid brain kept going back to what happened that morning, thinking about how he could get it to continue the next time and he really fucking needed to stop thinking about that. 

Ray grunted and flipped onto his stomach. He couldn't get comfortable, it felt like the mattress was stuffed with rocks and honestly? He wouldn't be surprised if it was. He knew the Vagabond was right there and was probably down for cuddling ‒ maybe he'd even welcome it. That’d be more comfortable, but the danger of another boner was too high. He couldn’t risk it, Ray decided, sighing into the flat pillow. He couldn't fuck up the thing that they had. He couldn't live with himself if he did.

His brain just couldn't shut the fuck up. Ray flipped over for what felt like the fiftieth time and felt the mattress shift again. The heavy sigh from the other side of the bed could only mean he wasn't the only one still awake. Ray opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything in the dark. Still, he could feel the weight of the Vagabond moving on the other side of the bed, turning in his direction. Probably looking over at him too. 

The urge was too strong. Ray carefully slid his hand over the sheets to the Vagabond’s side, then up the side of his arm until he reached his shoulder. The lack of any startled reaction confirmed his suspicion. So did the hand that reached up to cover his, tracing over his skin. At least he hadn't slapped it away because he was tired and pissed that Ray was keeping him up with his squirming.

Ray wanted to ask why he couldn't sleep, but then that would raise the question about why he wasn't either, and really neither of them needed to go there. It didn't matter anyway ‒ it wasn't like he didn't care about what was bugging the other guy, but he _didn't care_ enough to not give him the privacy he was used to. That was their thing in a nutshell, both carefully avoiding the conversations they didn't want to have. It wasn't great, but it worked.

The Vagabond moved his hand up, still holding Ray's, so now Ray had a hand in his hair. Fuck, Ray had thought he was the one who liked having his hair played with, but this was the second time the Vagabond had allowed it, so maybe it was cool. He combed his fingers through the lengthy strands, loving the sensation and the way the Vagabond sighed at his touch. This was something he could seriously get used to.

The hand holding his moved away, and a second later Ray felt it press to his face and slide around to the back of his neck. The Vagabond was sliding closer. Ray could feel the bed shifting, the press of legs and chest against his. He could picture the way the Vagabond was staring at him, hair all messed up, with that look like he was still trying to figure Ray out. They were so close Ray could feel his breath on his face. The Vagabond’s thumb brushed his cheekbone, then his lower lip, and before Ray could react, the Vagabond was kissing him.

Back the fun bus the _fuck_ up.

The kiss was so soft, so natural, as if this was a _thing_ long-established and totally okay. The Vagabond’s movements were slow and lazy, becoming stronger when Ray didn't jerk away. He knew he should, but Ray found himself kissing back, going along with it. He sucked a shaky breath when the other man's tongue slid along the inside of his lips. Every nerve in his body was lit up, on fire, and it felt so good he never wanted it to stop. 

In the back of his mind Ray knew he should be flipping the fuck out. This couldn't be happening, shouldn't be happening. He had no idea how to respond, or even if it was okay to respond. But he wanted to. He wanted to keep going because fuck, if it wasn't okay he then wanted to get whatever he could out of it.

A steady ache was growing in his gut. The kisses began to grow stronger as Ray slowly reacted to them, kissing back just as intensely. Ray pressed his leg up, and the groan that came out of the Vagabond was like a chocolate-covered kick in the ass. Fuck it, this was happening, fuck the consequences. Ray got his hand down to where he could feel the warm bulge against his leg, running his hand over it and biting his lip to keep from moaning. The Vagabond flexed his hips against the slide of his hand and holy fucking shit that had to be the _hottest thing ever_. He was panting against Ray's lips, taking his hand and pushing it beneath his waistband and okay, Ray knew what to do there.

Their closeness was suddenly a pain in the ass, since Ray was at the wrong angle to be comfortable jerking him off. They fumbled for a moment, bed creaking with every move, while Ray switched hands. After that it was a lot easier. Ray bit his lip to keep from saying something stupid and worked his hand over the Vagabond’s dick, which was something he never imagined would happen. Okay, sure, he'd imagined it plenty of times, but never thought he could really do it. But here he was, and the skin under his hand was blindingly hot, and the way the Vagabond was gasping into the side of his neck was very encouraging. He kept his strokes short and even, just hard enough to get the job done, but still light enough that the Vagabond could push him away in case he remembered this was a really bad idea.

The Vagabond kept kissing him, nipping at his lips and the side of his neck like an asshole who knew how crazy that made Ray. His free hand was moving south across his body at a rate that made Ray whimper. For half a second, he wanted to back out like a fucking bitch. It was so much, almost overwhelming, but it also felt _so good_. It couldn't be that good if it wasn't okay, right?

He couldn't ignore the way the Vagabond was holding them so close together, or the way the kisses kept going as Ray kept stroking. There was no hesitation in the Vagabond’s actions. He touched Ray exactly how he wanted, sliding under his pajamas to stroke firmly down the shaft. Ray's hips jerked as the blindingly intense feeling shocked through him, so much stronger than anything he'd felt in ages. Fucking. Hell. He could die after this and be perfectly happy. Or maybe he'd die sooner if the Vagabond didn't _hurry the fuck up._

It didn't take long. Ray could feel himself getting close, his hips moving along frantically with the Vagabond’s hand. He kept making stupid little gasping noises that made the Vagabond grip his side tighter, breathing a little harder as he worked his hand like a fucking pro. It was too much, and Ray knew he was a fucking bitch for getting off so easily but he couldn't help it. Sucking a strangled breath, Ray gasped as he came, letting the rush of release flood through him like the best damn thing ever. The bliss washed through his mind, a soothing relief that finally shut his dumb brain up. All he could do was lay there and ride it out.

He came back to the Vagabond guiding his hand over his dick, holding him tight. He was moving at a brutal pace, gasping just like Ray had been as he got closer. Swallowing hard, Ray brought his other hand up to press to his face, running his fingers across the heated skin of his cheekbone. He wanted him to move back so he could kiss him again, but that touch apparently was what did it. Ray felt the Vagabond’s breath hitch, tensing before he abruptly slumped, shaking and breathing hard against his skin where he pressed his face into Ray's hand. 

For a minute, they just breathed, collapsed against each other. It was just long enough for Ray's brain to pull itself together, just so it could totally lose it again. Fucking hell, he'd just jerked off the Vagabond. The most dangerous guy in the entire country, and not only had he given him a handjob, he was pretty sure he could have done better. He was so fucked. 

The Vagabond abruptly pulled away. Ray held his breath. He heard fabric moving, then felt it against his own skin, wiping away the mess. Then the Vagabond came right back, practically laying on top of him and shoving his arms under his back and shoulders in a hug. Ray could feel the bare skin of his chest now, the thick arms around him and the lips against his skin. The Vagabond kissed at his neck, his forehead, softly, as if they had all the time in the world. He kept returning to his lips every so often for long and slow kisses that made Ray shiver. Like there was nothing better in the world.

Okay. That had happened. Ray finally let himself relax, slumping under the Vagabond comfortably. Maybe it really was okay. 

~*~

Ray wasn't an expert or anything, but he was pretty sure the Vagabond was seriously regretting letting him behind the wheel. And Ray was totally not enjoying the freaked-out scrambling for some kind of hold every time he raced a yellow light. “I'm goin for it!” he warned again. The Vagabond glared at him and clutched the seatbelt. Ray returned the look with an asshole grin as he sped through the intersection just as it turned.

True, he’d never actually taken the driving test or anything, but he knew what he was doing. Mostly. He was a little fuzzy on some of the lawful details, but he wasn't really worried about legality when he was already driving a car with the country's most dangerous mercenary riding shotgun. 

Besides, he had to drive ‒ some guy driving with his hood up was only slightly less noticeable than a guy wearing a black skull mask. This was “official” business, so the Vagabond was rocking the whole ensemble, but that didn't mean they had to go around drawing attention to it. That wasn't enough to stop him from driving like an asshole though.

The Vagabond pointed out their exit, then scrambled to hang on to the ‘oh shit’ handle when Ray took it a little fast. Ray laughed at him.

“You're such a fucking pussy,” he teased, and got a painless slap on the arm for his comment. That made him feel better. He'd been feeling a little off, ever since the night of the stuff that _neither of them_ acknowledged had happened. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure that everything was okay, no matter how normal the Vagabond still acted. It wasn’t like he was expecting a bended knee declaration of love the next morning, but maybe _something_ instead of the usual casualness. But at the same time, the easy familiarity was a relief, since he was pretty sure he’s spontaneously explode if the Vagabond had done something sappy like that.

But he couldn't ask about it. It was firmly on the list of shit they didn't talk about. If he asked about it then it meant he wasn’t okay with it, and that was the last thing he wanted to be.

But then he'd watched the Vagabond suit up and came to the wild realization that it was _the_ first time he'd seen the other guy in his official getup. And that was just weird. Even after living with the guy for months, Ray had never gotten the full outfit. It was a look that could strike fear in just about anyone else, but in person it was almost a letdown. He had totally lost the intimidation factor on Ray, since knew what a fucking dork he was under the mask. Even if said dork was a really ruthless bastard, he was still the guy who had made Ray soup and had finally gotten his ass out of bed. He couldn't forget that.

The Vagabond kept directing him further, towards the shady parts of the city. They weren't actually back in Liberty City proper, but one of the smaller communities that clustered on the edge. And they weren't staying long, just a quick stop at an arms dealer. Not long enough for someone to set up an attack on them. Hopefully.

Ray finally parked them in a dingy alley, and silently followed the Vagabond to their final destination. It was several blocks, but Ray noticed, watching the roofs like he always did, that there were no security cameras along their route. And the doorway they stopped at was dimly lit, like the owners knew their clients wanted privacy.

The Vagabond banged on the door twice, then once more after a pause. Ray slouched into place behind him, trying to look relaxed but feeling extremely alert. He was armed, a small piece resting in his hoodie pocket where it belonged, but he still really hoped to avoid getting in a shootout for any reason. The least he could do was take a bullet for the Vagabond, in case it was a set-up, but he wasn't looking forward to that.

Turned out it wasn't. Ray saw the door open a crack, then extend further to show the young woman standing inside. She looked around Ray's age, her bright red hair pulled up into a ponytail. She was casually dressed except for the heavy apron she wore, which was covered in dark stains. Her face was set in a blank frown, but in an extremely careful way, like she knew damn well she couldn't show fear or act nervous around the country's most dangerous killer.

“Evenin’,” she welcomed the Vagabond with a cool nod, opening the door wider to let him in. Ray followed right on his heels, which was good because the lady looked like she was about to shut it right after the Vagabond. Her expression cracked, shifting to confusion at the sight of him. Probably wondering who he was and what the hell he was doing following the Vagabond around.

Ray sometimes wondered that himself.

They ended up in the back room of some kind of establishment ‒ Ray was sure it was perfectly legal, except for the freaking incredible amounts of guns waiting there for them. There were all kinds of ammo, knives and body armor and ton of other stuff. Ray whistled under his breath. Honestly, it was one of the more impressive armories he'd ever seen, and he'd seen some shit.

A gleam caught his eye, and he beelined over to a set of butterfly knives on display, painted in metallic rainbows. “Oh cool,” he sighed, picking one up to admire. It was a cold and dangerous piece of weaponry, but still insanely pretty. 

The Vagabond held his hand out, and Ray passed it over with a grin. The Vagabond immediately whipped it through his fingers, unfolding and flipping it around easily. Showoff. He made it look so natural, but deadly. And since Ray was royally fucked up, he was kinda getting hard from watching.

The Vagabond finished with a dangerous flip and offered it back to Ray hilt-first. The mask was expressionless, but Ray just _knew_ he had that cocky pleased grin under it.

“Totally your style,” Ray teased as he took it back and returned it to its place in the display. He didn't _need_ some too‒pretty knives, but damn, he kinda wanted them. Or at least he wanted the Vagabond to have them.

“So are you the special order?” Ray jumped and turned to find the store owner right behind him, giving him a hell of a look. Equally suspicious and appraising. The Vagabond appeared to be studying a rack of shotguns, but Ray knew him well enough to know he was still on alert.

“Uhh, maybe?” Ray offered. She kept giving him a look even as she went over to a shelf and dragged down a cardboard box, which she offered to him. Ray took it and undid the flaps cautiously. Inside were several more, smaller boxes, but Ray recognized the packaging. They were shells for his sniper, in his preferred brand too. How had that fucker known?

“Yeah, I guess these are mine.” 

The lady nodded. “Thought so. He doesn't seem like the sniper type, you know?” She jerked her head over at the Vagabond with a mischievous smile, like she was making a joke he was supposed to be getting.

Ray nodded awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I know what you mean.” She seemed to have lightened up a bit, which was a relief. He was used to intense looks after so long with the Vagabond, but he still didn't like it. But now she was smiling easily at him, probably relieved he wasn't a creepy weirdo like the Vagabond. Maybe too smiley to be comfortable.

“I had a friend who was a sniper back in the day too, you know?” she chatted easily while leading him back to a makeshift counter, where she started piling up more boxes of ammo. “Showed me pictures from when she was the army, gun was almost bigger as she was. Apparently it always knocked her over, like every time she shot it. You know what I mean, though, right? You're so skinny the kick must be hell for you.” 

Ray was about to open his mouth and get offended when he saw the Vagabond abruptly turn away, like he was trying not to laugh. Asshole. “Yeah, well, you know, I just deal with it,” he said while shrugging dismissively. He hated small talk ‒ the nice thing about dealing with the Vagabond was not having to. But the lady was smiling at him so nicely he didn't have the heart to be more rude.

“You know,” she paused for a moment, “one of the regulars at my other shop ‒ sweet little old thing, she made me some apple crisp, there's no way in hell I'm gonna eat it all. You want some?”

“Uh…” Ray was floored. Was she flirting with him? Or was this just some trick she was pulling, trying to butter up someone close to the Vagabond? Either way, he wanted to say no, but she was already disappearing around the edge of the door while saying she'd bring him a bite.

As soon as she was gone, Ray wheeled to look over at the Vagabond. “What the hell, dude?” he hissed. “Who is this chick?” The Vagabond held up his phone, and Ray squinted to see the text thread on the screen. In the contact bar there was a red rose emoji, followed by a cat face. “Oh holy shit,” he whispered with amazement. He knew who it was now. “How the hell did you get Red Cat as your dealer?” 

The Vagabond shrugged, but Ray could see the way his eyes crinkled under the mask, like he was smiling. Ray couldn't blame him ‒ Red Cat was one of the most exclusive arms dealer on the East Coast. She was known for taking absolutely no shit and for never snitching on her customers, even though Ray had heard she'd had a few close calls. And now she was getting him apple crisp.

_Do I just subconsciously attract people who want to give me food?_ Ray wondered as he leaned on the counter, waiting for her to come back. It was nice, he had to admit, but a big change from years before when he used to scrounge food from dumpsters. Back then he would have killed for some homemade apple crisp.

While he was distracted, the door to the outside opened abruptly, making him jump. Ray jerked his head over as four guys barged in, talking loudly, and every inch of their bodies said “criminal” very loudly. Ray straightened back up, bracing for trouble. He nervously glanced over at the Vagabond, who had slunk back along the wall and was now watching like a creep as the leader stalked up to the counter Ray was leaning on.

He banged his fist on the wood before leaning over it, yelling through the door. “Oi Cat, you in there?” He had an accent, which was surprising, but he was still a big guy who looked like he could kick ass. He abruptly turned to Ray, and it took everything he had not to flinch back. He couldn't show weakness around these guys ‒ they'd tear him apart.

“You know if she's here or what?” he asked, obviously not caring about not being intimidating. Well, Ray was used to that. Not like he hung out with the king of intimidation every day or anything.

“She's getting my stuff. Should be back in a minute.” He sounded bored and indifferent, just like he should. The guy gave him a considering look, and seemed to decide that picking a fight with someone in the middle of an illegal ammo store wasn't worth his time. At the same time, one of his buddies noticed the Vagabond lurking and announced his discovery with a gasp.

The big guy whirled, staring in awe at the Vagabond, who looked cooly back. “Fuckin hell,” he muttered in amazement. “Didn't know you were a customer here, mate.” Before he could say anything else, Red Cat stomped back into the shop, holding a paper plate with Ray's snack. She didn't look happy.

“Dammit,” she snapped at the newcomers. “I told you guys to get here earlier.”

“Sorry, Cat.” British guy didn't sound sorry at all. “Got caught up on a job, you know how it is.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cat grumbled as she slid Ray his dessert. “Listen, I've got other customers, so you gotta wait your fucking turn.” She glared at them while pulling out a brown paper bag, which she started piling Ray's shells into.

“No problem, love,” he said with a flirty grin. “Kinda want to talk to that guy anyway, long as he's here,” he said while jerking his head back towards the Vagabond. Ray snuck a glance back, and was sure he could detect the murder-glare through the mask.

“Fine, but don't hassle him. You gotta follow the rules here too, Mister ‘The Man.’” Red Cat’s voice was mocking, and even though the guy made a face at the joke Ray didn't get, he didn't push it. Instead he slouched away from the counter and started over to the Vagabond, who Ray imagined would rather be anywhere else than there at the moment.

“Here.” Cat caught his attention by pushing the bag at him. “Take your stuff and get outta here, okay, I gotta deal with these guys before my next group comes in.” 

“But…” Caught off-guard, Ray took a look back towards the other men, who were grouped around the Vagabond. He still had his shit to get, so why was she trying to kick him out?

“I'll add _your stuff_ to your tab like usual, okay, you know how it goes, now get out.” When Ray turned back to her, he saw the very significant look she was giving him, and his brain finally caught up with a jolt. Shit. If she didn't think the new guys should know the two of them had come in together, then she probably had a really fucking good point.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” Ray said as gratefully as he grabbed his stuff. Thank God someone else had their shit together. “And for the, you know, apple crisp and stuff.” He hoped she understood what he meant, and judging from her quick smile, she did.

The Vagabond didn't look at him when he left. Ray was sure he'd picked up on the danger ‒ he was smart like that. They had to pretend they didn't know each other. Cat certainly wouldn't blab, but there was no guarantee those other guys wouldn't.

He booked it through the alleys away from the store, and waited at the car for a good half hour before the Vagabond finally showed up. He had his own plate of apple crisp, which was a relief since Ray had totally finished his before he thought he should save some to share.

“Those guys go away?” Ray asked, just to be sure, and the Vagabond nodded while throwing his much bigger bag of ammo in the back. Ray was sure the reason for the delay was the Vagabond lurking after the other gang, making sure they didn't stick around and try shit. Most criminals knew not to fuck around around safe spaces like an ammo store, but there were idiots everywhere.

The Vagabond took off his mask and got in the driver's seat, so Ray made himself comfy in the passenger's seat. The Vagabond handed him the plate of apple crisp, along with a slip of paper and one of his burner phones.

**Guy in there said he had some ins with people. Could mean future jobs**

Ray nodded while he added the number on the paper to the contacts under the name ‘The Man.’ “You don't think they're connected to the guys from the apartment?”

**It's possible.** Ray was sure he'd already thought of that. It paid to be paranoid. **But if they try something, at least we'll have a connection to follow.**

‘We.’ That reminded Ray of their near fuck-up. “Think they figured we were together?”

The Vagabond shrugged while he typed his reply. **No reason to think so**

“Probably should keep it that way,” Ray suggested. “Not that I don’t like hanging out with you and stuff, but, you know.” He shrugged. “Probably better if people don’t know you’re working with some loser like me. Think of your reputation.”

Ray tried to make a joke about it, but the look the Vagabond gave him in return was too serious to laugh at. He took his time typing on his phone before he handed it to Ray and started the car.

**My reputation can go fuck itself. I’d rather have you.**

Well...that was something. Ray swallowed. “Well, it's still an advantage, right? Keeping quiet about working together, I mean. Once we figure out who went after the apartment, those fuckers won't expect you to have backup.”

The Vagabond appeared to think about it before a wicked grin grew on his face. Ray could tell he liked the idea. Ray relaxed back in his seat, feeling better. He was getting the hang of things again, getting his ass armed and planning shit out. It felt good.

Just like old times.

~*~

“You gotta be shitting my dick off.”

The Vagabond wheezed, trying unsuccessfully to hide his laughter behind his hand. At least he had a sense of humor about it, instead of the usual cold rage. Ray shook his head, more confused than amused. “Someone's gonna get shot. If they go out like that, they're gonna get shot. Holy shit.”

He hoped, really fucking hoped, that it was some kind of joke, that no one in their fucking mind would think dressing up as _the Vagabond_ for Halloween was a good idea. But the whole outfit was there, mask and jacket and all, even if the tag advertised it as “Criminal Mercenary”. Ray wondered if the Vagabond was copyrighted or something.

Finally overcoming his giggles, the Vagabond reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the fake jacket, nose wrinkling at the cheap fabric. Like he expected it to be actual leather or something. Ray reached up and prodded the accompanying the mask. It was flimsy rubber, not the thick latex he knew the real one was.

“Think maybe you should stock up or something? They're cheap,” he asked under his breath. Their aisle was deserted, but only a few rows away kids were screaming at each other over costumes and candy. Ray hadn't even been aware of the approaching holiday until the Vagabond had pulled him into the store, a seasonal outlet in the strip mall where they had stopped for lunch. He just remembered it as the few times people were actually willing to give out food.

The Vagabond shook his head and took the time to write an answer to his question. **I bought bulk years ago, got a few stashes here and there.** Ray took a moment to appreciate his over-preparedness when something caught his eye.

“Think this is discreet enough?” he asked, grabbing an elaborate mask covered in sequins and feathers. The Vagabond laughed and grabbed another, equally garish and fancy. He looked ridiculous when he put it on, but still good enough to make Ray feel stupid just being around him. It wasn't fair.

He wondered if the Vagabond knew it too, or at least had an idea of how awkward Ray was still feeling. Between the overwhelming reminder that he had to get back to his usual bullshit, and getting forced out of his hermit life, Ray was still feeling super awkward and uneasy in public. He was just rusty, but he also couldn't make the effort to fix himself. But the Vagabond kept going out of his way to make him laugh and feel comfortable, so that was nice.

The Vagabond grabbed a plain black opera mask and stopped, a considering look on his face. Ray held still when he held it up in front of his face, and watched the other man's eyebrow jump. “Seriously?” he asked. The Vagabond shrugged. “It looks stupid on me, doesn't it?”

The Vagabond stepped into his space, and Ray let him slip the mask over his head, adjusting it around his eyes. Then he pulled the hood up on Ray's sweatshirt, then stepped back. Now both eyebrows were up.

“Where's a fucking mirror,” Ray asked, twisting around to look. Before he could move, the Vagabond offered his phone, with the front camera on. Ray took a look at himself, the whole top half of his face covered in black fabric, and snorted. “It's a fucking look, I'll give you that.”

The Vagabond grinned. “You really like it? Think this is what I should go out like?” The Vagabond nodded approvingly, so Ray shrugged. He hadn't really ever used a proper mask before, in the old days, because a hood and a bandanna usually worked just fine. 

But he was with Mr. Dramatic now, so he supposed he had to step up his look. The Vagabond seemed to like it, so why not? It wasn't like he had anything better to offer.

~*~

“Shine bright like a diamond!”

Ray wasn't even trying to hide the big shit-eating grin on his face as he sang along. Unlike the Vagabond, who was trying unsuccessfully to keep his murder-glare up. As long as he was still entertained, he wasn't likely to kick him out of the moving car, so Ray kept it going. “Shinin’ bright like a diamond!” That didn't even sound close to in-tune. The Vagabond broke into scratchy laughter anyway, that big grin of his lighting up his eyes.

It was nice to see him so relaxed and laughing again. He was the one with a plan, and now they were on the road to follow it through. Ray didn't exactly remember most of the plan but that didn't really matter, the other guy had everything down. Even the shitty motels and endless hours on the road were worth it, since it was just another step closer to fucking people up. The Vagabond was in his element, and he was loving it.

If only Ray could feel the same.

The heaviness was back, the great numbing feeling that made him just want to lie down somewhere and do nothing. The energy and adrenaline had run out, and even the threat of the Vagabond abandoning him wasn't enough to make him care. It was almost kinda nice, not giving a shit again. After all the stress of the last few days, not feeling anything was a relief.

It wouldn't last, of course. Ray could still feel the bad thoughts lurking in the back of his mind, waiting to rise back up again when he was least prepared. Probably as soon as he fucked something up. But he'd had worse. He could deal with it.

He couldn't let it show, though. Not when the Vagabond needed him to keep up. He had to keep faking it, at least while they were in the car together. It took _so much fucking energy_ to keep himself upright and singing along with the radio, it almost wasn't worth it. But then he remembered the alternative was going back to being alone and pathetic in some apartment somewhere, and powered through.

Thank God for pop stars and their peppy, catchy songs to sing along to.

When they stopped for gas, Ray forced himself to get out and stretch his legs, even though he wanted to crawl in the backseat and sleep. In the store, away from the Vagabond, he let himself wilt, slouching in his hoodie with a dead look on his face. The faint music and buzzing lights overhead made his head feel full of cotton. Trying to navigate the rows of junk food was a nightmare, like each step took all of his mental focus and energy to take. 

God, what the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he have to be like this, instead of a normal functioning human. Why did he have to feel like shit all the time? Ray swallowed hard and focused on the cold plastic in his hand when he grabbed sodas for both of them, the sensation grounding him as he waited in line to pay. He had to keep faking it, at least for a while.

The Vagabond looked at him strangely when he got back in the car, but Ray pasted a fake grin back on his face and forced himself to eat. Even the sandwich he got wasn't enough to tempt him much, even if it was the first meal in days that wasn't from a greasy fast food place. It just wasn't as enjoyable as he wanted it to be.

They finally reached their stopping point for the night, yet another shitty motel. Ray didn't even take the time to kick his shoes off before he face-planted onto the bed and let out a sigh that came all the way from his toes. Finally. He could finally stop pretending for the day and sink into the tired numb feeling he'd been fighting. Never mind that the comforter was probably crawling with every germ known to man, Ray rolled himself up into a blanket burrito anyway. He just didn't fucking care.

Ray just wanted to relax, maybe wallow in misery until he fell asleep, fun shit like that. He certainly wasn't expecting the crushing weight of the Vagabond when he full-on body flopped on top of him. Ray grunted at him, but the Vagabond just arranged himself so his arms were around Ray's middle before relaxing with an exaggerated sigh. Fucker. Why couldn't he leave Ray alone for just a little while?

“Get off me,” Ray grumbled, muffled by the blankets. He could hear the sound of the Vagabond’s hair sliding against the fabric when he shook his head no. Bastard. Ray wasn't really mad, though. It was uncomfortable, but nice. Just like his life.

The Vagabond angled his phone in front of Ray's face, so he could read while he typed. **Can you manage a few more hours of energy for me? I have a body armor contact a few towns over, you need to get some**

“So do fucking you,” Ray shot back, mind racing. How the fuck did he know? He couldn't ‒ Ray was sure he'd hid how shit he was feeling well enough. But then why did he ask instead of just telling him?

**I'll get some too. And we can get pizza.** Again with the bribery. **Or we can go tomorrow if you're not feeling up to it**

Honestly? He wasn't. Now that he was horizontal he didn't want to get back up. He didn't know if he'd be physically able to, even if the Vagabond got off him. It would probably take more effort than he'd felt all day, and he just _couldn't_.

But the body armor guy was probably the only reason they were in this town, he realized with a heavy dose of guilt. He was already slowing the Vagabond down, throwing him off his perfectly planned plan. He had to get up.

“Yeah, just—” Ray tried, he really did, to get his arms under him so he could push himself up. But the Vagabond was really fucking heavy. “You gotta get off me first, buddy.”

Another message appeared on the phone. **It's really no problem if you want to go tomorrow. I don't mind**

_I do,_ Ray thought miserably, but he didn't say it. Instead he struggled more, trying to free himself from the blankets and the Vagabond. “It doesn't matter, let's just do it now.”

The Vagabond shook his head again, apparently making the decision himself. He tucked his phone away and leaned his head against the back of Ray’s neck, apparently getting comfortable. Ray struggled a few more times, trying to prove he could get up and they could go. But the Vagabond was making it fucking impossible to move. 

Eventually Ray stopped trying and closed his eyes. He wanted to relax, let the Vagabond hold him until the heaviness took him under so he could sleep. But every bad thought that’d been pushed back all day was coming right the fuck back to the front. It was so bad he almost couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything else besides how worthless, how awful he was, he couldn't even fucking get up and do anything like he wanted, he couldn't‒ 

The Vagabond turned his head, pushing past the hoodie fabric so his face was up against Ray's. Ray held his breath, not able to move for a whole different reason. The Vagabond was way too close, like they were gonna start making out again. So close the edge of Ray's crooked glasses was pressing into his face. Instead of moving away, the Vagabond took them off his face and put them aside. Then he came right back, the strong line of his chin pressing into Ray's cheek.

Was this okay? The Vagabond had to know this wasn't something he needed to be doing. He didn't have to, he didn't need to keep checking that Ray was comfortable and looking out for him and shit. It had to be easier to just leave him like he deserved.

That thought actually made his chest hurt. He was so tired of being worried, tired thinking, tired of questioning every single thing. Ray swallowed it down, told his brain to shut the fuck up, and closed his eyes. They were so close he could feel his eyelashes touching the other man's skin.

If the Vagabond didn't have a problem with any of it, Ray sure as shit didn't either.

~*~

Ray eyed the rising column of smoke with some kind of frustrated acceptance. “I mean, maybe it’s just a bonfire?” he offered lamely. The Vagabond’s face mirrored his, except if possible he looked even more pissed. “Should we stop and get marshmallows?” The Vagabond didn’t laugh, but he grumbled something Ray was pretty sure was supposed to be a swear word. Ray was right there with him. It was way too early in the morning to deal with this bullshit.

They couldn't chalk it up to coincidence ‒ they were headed towards their body armor supplier, and in the same direction there happened to be a very large fire. There was also a suspicious lack of any fire trucks, or anyone paying attention even in this unremarkable little town. Like everyone knew better than to be nosy.

Ray couldn’t ignore the clenching knowledge in his stomach. If he had just got his shit together the previous night, they would have their body armor and things wouldn’t be on fire. And the Vagabond wouldn't have such a pissed-off look on his face as he drove them carefully through the streets. They were going to check it out, just on the off chance it wasn't really on fire, but they couldn't bring attention while doing it. Especially since the Vagabond was currently unmasked.

He still looked like a badass, clearly going for tough and intimidating in a plain leather jacket, looking like some biker gang reject. But without the mask Ray felt extra aware of who could see him and how careful they’d have to be to avoid getting noticed. He was sure the Vagabond knew what he was doing, but that didn't mean he couldn't worry.

“Fuck,” Ray hissed under his breath when they turned into the right street. The warehouse at the end had to be their destination, since it was the only building around. And it was unmistakably on fire.

The Vagabond grumbled again as he turned the car around. Ray turned his head as they went, glaring at the building. “This is some fucking bullshit,” he spat. He felt terrible, since this could only mean something bad, but he couldn’t focus on that. For now, the frustration had taken over and all he could do was swear about it.

The Vagabond stopped at a stop sign, whipped out his phone to quickly type something, and handed it over.

**Swear some more** the message read. **it makes me feel better**

Ray considered the message. “Motherfuckers,” he finally said. The Vagabond smiled grimly and kept driving.

They ended up going back to the motel, because where else could they go? Now the Vagabond had to make up another plan, and Ray had to drown in some serious guilt about how fucked up he'd made the situation. The fire wasn't his fault, maybe, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility that it had been intentionally set to fuck with the Vagabond. Probably the same culprit from the apartment. If they could find his hideout, they could find his suppliers. It was even more likely that it had been a trap, and when the two of them hadn’t showed they’d just burnt the place down.

Ray could barely handle the idea. Even if his fuck-up had maybe saved his life, the Vagabond couldn't be expected to be happy about it.

A ripping sound slashed through the air, making Ray jump. The Vagabond was stabbing at a pillow with a knife, face twisted in anger. It wasn't stuffed with feathers, so the fluff that spilled out didn't float around him cinematically or anything. But he was making a mess, breathing hard, his focus just as sharp as the knife that was ripping the fabric apart.

Ray waited silently until the Vagabond’s anger ran out. Amazingly, he wasn't scared for once. If the Vagabond was gonna stab him then he would, there was no way to stop him, but instead he went for the pillow.

When the Vagabond finally stilled, panting and staring at the destruction, Ray finally spoke up. “I don't think they'll let us get the deposit back now.”

The Vagabond rolled his eyes and blew some fluff out of his face before collapsing on the bed in a dramatic heap. Ray shook his head before wandering over to join him, taking a seat by his head.

The Vagabond squinted up at him, not glaring, but his face was still set in a frown, with an angry little line between his eyebrows. Ray leaned over him and ran his thumb over it, trying to wipe it away. “At least we weren’t in there, right?” The Vagabond lifted his eyebrows, making that line go away.

“Look, I know for a fact there's more body armor we can buy somewhere else. Like, Red Cat could get us some. Or the freakin internet. It's not the end of the world.”

The Vagabond shook his head before sitting up to get his phone out of his pocket. When he laid back down, he rested his head squarely in Ray's lap. Okay then. Ray worked on getting his hair out of the ponytail as he typed, brushing away bits of fluff. The Vagabond sighed and slumped once he was done typing and passed the phone to Ray.

**It's not that simple. They knew my face there, my real face. Not that I was the Vagabond they probably just thought I was some pickup guy for some crew but now I don't know if they've survived or not or if they'll come back and expose me later or if they think I had something to do with it since I didn’t show up last night. Or the people who set it might still be lurking around and they might not even be the same people behind the apartment, so who knows who's after me at this point?**

While Ray read, he idly started playing with the Vagabond’s hair, absentmindedly running his fingers through it. When he was done he looked down, expecting to see frustration still on his face. Instead, the Vagabond’s eyes were closed, face relaxed and tired.

“Is this seriously how you think?” Ray asked around the tightness in his throat. “You just imagine how everything can go wrong, all the time?” If this was just a glimpse at how his paranoid brain worked, Ray couldn't imagine how it felt to think like that _every single fucking minute._

The Vagabond cracked an eye open and grabbed the phone. **How else am I supposed to stay alive?**

“I mean, on one hand, yeah, same.” Ray said with a wince. “But, don't take this the wrong way, I know I'm not exactly peak mental health myself, but...how do you fucking stand that? How do you relax?” Ray asked incredulously. God, he thought his brain was fucked up, but at least it let up sometimes. Mental static sucked but at least it meant he wasn't crawling up the walls with anxiety. And somehow the Vagabond wasn't either, but knowing that's how he felt really made everything else about him make sense.

The Vagabond took the phone back. When he was done there was a small smile on his face.

**I’m relaxed right now.**

Ray stared at the message, then back down at the Vagabond. He did look relaxed, eyes closed again, smile still lingering on his face. “How long did that take?”

He knew the Vagabond knew what he meant. If the guy was always thinking of the ways the world would screw him over, that meant that he had once considered Ray a threat too. And that was fucking stupid considering his condition when they met, but at some point he must have decided Ray wasn't going to go after him. And then he trusted him enough to get in bed with him, and go on jobs, and somehow get even closer.

But Ray knew how hard it was to get over what nonsense the brain was telling you. It had felt like ages at the time, but he remembered how suspicious the Vagabond had been at first, how distant and distrusting. But he'd gotten over it, somehow, and now his head was in Ray's lap, and he was staring up at him with something heavy in his eyes. He knew, but he didn't respond. They didn't need to.

The Vagabond grabbed Ray's hand from where it had stopped playing with his hair. Still locking eyes on Ray, he brought it down to his face so he could press a kiss right in the middle of his palm. Then he moved it back to the top of his head.

Ray swallowed, hard, and went back to running his fingers through those long, blonde strands.

~*~

Nothing good ever happened at three in the morning. Even criminals usually called it a night at that point, because really there was nothing interesting happening, either. So when their new body armor contact never showed, Ray and the Vagabond did the easier thing and returned to the hotel. It just wasn't worth hanging around or making a fuss. Ray pretty much nodded off the whole ride there, and the Vagabond was rocking some massive bags under his eyes by the time they got to the motel.

They didn't waste any time fumbling around after they fell into bed. The Vagabond faceplanted onto the sheets as usual, and Ray barely got into little spoon position before he was out. 

So it was kinda jarring when, in the middle of an argument with the Queen of England about his purse, he was abruptly jostled awake by a fucking nightmare of a noise.

Ray scrambled for his glasses, heart racing and blinking in the dim light. He didn't know why he was awake, but it probably wasn't good. The noise happened again and he jumped, twisting around frantically.

The Vagabond was sitting straight up, eyes and mouth wide open. He was making that terrible wheezing sound as he clutched at his throat. With a hard shock, Ray realized that he was trying to scream.

“Hey,” Ray said as he scrambled closer to him. “Hey, hey buddy, you're okay.” Never mind that the last time the Vagabond had flipped out he had pointed a gun at nothing and now Ray was getting right in his space. The Vagabond looked panicked and frantic, but he didn't have that distant look like he did the last time. One hand was still wrapped around his neck, the other arm across his lower stomach. The horrible wheezing stopped after a hard swallow, but he was still panting hard like he was fighting for every breath. He focused directly on Ray, and his eyes, when they finally met his, almost looked scared.

Ray didn't know what do do. If the situation was reversed he was sure the Vagabond would be hugging him or something by now, but Ray wasn't sure how he'd react to that. But fuck it, the poor guy was looking so freaked out Ray couldn't not do something. He reached out and pressed a hand to the Vagabond’s face, and the other man leaned into it with a groan, letting his eyes fall closed. His skin was sweaty and cold.

“You're alright, buddy,” Ray said, like saying it would make it the truth. The Vagabond still looked very much not alright, hunched over with his hair hanging around his face. But he hadn't attacked or flipped out at Ray, so that was good.

Before Ray could ask if he needed anything else (because he could ask, unlike the Vagabond, who Ray now realized was probably guessing every time he tried to make Ray feel better), the Vagabond leaned forward so he could rest his head against Ray's shoulder. He tucked his face into the side of Ray’s neck and sighed raggedly, closing his eyes and putting all his weight on Ray. It was a lot, but Ray didn't back away. He moved his hand from his face to settle it in his long hair. When the Vagabond didn't immediately shake him off he started stroking it carefully, trying not to do anything that would freak the Vagabond out further.

Fuck, he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. Was he helping, or was the Vagabond just putting up with it because he was in no shape to get away? He had no way of knowing, but he wanted to help. He hated feeling so useless. 

The Vagabond eventually dropped the arm around his stomach so he could curl it around Ray's back, but the hand around his neck stayed. Ray could feel the movement of his fingers rubbing over his skin, and determinedly did not think about what could have made the Vagabond flip out. A nightmare, screaming and clutching his neck, coupled with the no-talking thing, all pointed a certain direction Ray didn't want to look. The Vagabond never pried into his past ‒ the least Ray could do was return the favor. 

Eventually, the heavy breaths slowed and the hard arm around Ray's back got a little less tense. Ray didn't stop playing with his hair until the Vagabond moved first, turning his head to look at the windows, lit up with early-morning sunlight. 

“You ready to go?” Ray asked, like they didn't get just two hours of sleep and had a fucking terrible start to the morning. They had to get back to work.

The Vagabond nodded against his shoulder and pulled away, finally letting his hand drop away from his neck. Ray looked away, just in case, because that was a secret he couldn't ask about. It would never be.

Before he could move to get out of bed, the Vagabond touched his cheek and pushed his head back around. The Vagabond’s eyes were soft and grateful as he moved into Ray's space. He kissed him once on the forehead, then softly on the lips, then rested his forehead against Ray's.

“It's okay, buddy,” Ray whispered, meeting his eyes. “I got you.”

The look the Vagabond gave him was something he'd never seen on his face before. He kissed him one more time before getting up and moving towards the bathroom. Ray stayed on the bed, giving him as much time as he needed, and tried really hard not to feel so fucking gooey inside.

~*~

Before Ray’s eyes was the weirdest fucking thing he'd ever seen in his life. He'd gotten over the weirdness of hanging out with the Vagabond in his natural state, and even going out with him a few times all masked up. That was okay, he was used to it, no big deal. But seeing the other man _socializing_ , with someone who wasn't Ray...it was just wild.

Of course, the little old lady who was talking his ear off had no way of knowing who he really was. She didn't even seem to notice he wasn't talking either, just nodding along as she rambled. But there was a nice encouraging smile on his face, even though he kept looking a little desperately over at Ray, sitting in the car, like he was making sure he was still there. Or maybe hoping Ray’d come rescue him.

Served him right for being polite and holding the door for her.

Ray tried not to feel uncomfortable about what he was watching, cause that was just stupid. Realistically, he shouldn't have been surprised that the Vagabond was good at acting normal. Just because he had to fake it didn't mean the other man had to. Obviously he had a lot of practice, being who he was. That's what made him so good at his job.

But in a weird way, Ray still felt like he wasn't supposed to be seeing it. 

Ever since they'd gotten to the southern city where their shit had been shipped to, it was like the Vagabond had become someone else. He was comfortable navigating the shitty traffic, not even needing to check the GPS to get to where they needed to go. He kept smiling at landmarks. And Ray had a funny feeling that if the Vagabond suddenly started speaking, he'd have a trace of a southern accent. 

He was a local, or at least familiar enough to know his way around. And Ray had a good fucking guess that it wasn't from his criminal days. But that was something he didn't want to think about.

Even after being together for so long, there was shit he didn't know about the other guy, didn't _want_ to know. Like a hint of who he was _before_ he was the Vagabond. He'd been fine not knowing, because he didn't need to. He didn't care, unlike the rest of the criminal world and most of the internet, why he never talked or what his story was, how he ended up so fucked up. That was none of his fucking business.

The Vagabond finally escaped the old lady and got to the post office counter so he could get their stuff. Ray watched through the window, head resting listlessly against the car door. He slid over his ID, and Ray didn't even know if it was real or fake. Why would he even need a fake, since he was so good at covering his tracks and his face. At least until he met Ray.

He could easily have been anything he wanted, Ray realized while watching him fend off the postal worker's pitiful attempt at sign language. Pretty enough to be a model, smart enough to be in business, but instead he was spending his time getting shot at and hanging out with Ray.

Surely he could do better, especially if he had no record.

Ray expected they'd go find another hotel after they got their stuff, but instead the Vagabond pulled into an alleyway a few blocks away and idled, tapping at his phone. Instead of asking what they were waiting for, Ray pulled his own phone out and started checking the news. There were still reports about the apartment shooting, but no one official was pinning it on the Vagabond, which was a relief. They were reporting that the circumstances were mysterious enough that they'd keep investigating, but the cops didn't use the kind of language that Ray knew meant they were being bought by someone. So whoever was behind it didn't have dirty cops involved.

He hoped he hadn't left anything behind that would lead to the Vagabond. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he exposed any aspect of his private life. He might be willing to share his shit with Ray, for some fucking stupid reason, but no one else could get that. Just him.

He was distracted from thoughts when the Vagabond suddenly exited the vehicle. He walked up to some nerdy guy in scrubs that was standing awkwardly at the alley entrance, and exchanged the bag the nurse was holding for a wad of cash in record time. 

Ray eyed the bag as the nurse scurried away. What the fuck was that about? He could only assume drugs, since they still needed to restock their med kit. He wasn't exactly a big fan of drugs ‒ he'd seen enough people messed up on the street to know he wanted to steer clear of the stuff. And the Vagabond didn't seem like he was a big user either.

To his surprise, the Vagabond handed the bag to him once he entered the car. Ray tried to read his face, but he was very obviously trying not to look at him. Interesting. 

Wondering what the fuck was going on, Ray opened it to find several boxes of tablets. They were all the same, with some complicated medical name that gave him no idea what they actually were. He flipped over the box to read the info on the back, and froze.

It was anti-depression medication.

Ray could feel the Vagabond scrutinizing him from the corner of his eye, trying to see his reaction. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Ray read the words printed on the box. They were low-grade pills, apparently the best generic stuff available without having to be specifically prescribed. There was enough to last for months.

Well...shit. Ray tried to rein in the sudden rush of feelings. The Vagabond probably just wanted him better so he wouldn't be such a useless mess. He'd thought about getting treatment before, but hadn't been able to figure out the whole doctor thing. And there was no way he'd be able to go to a head shrink, who'd call the cops on him before the first session was over. But it seemed the Vagabond had figured out a way to get them for him.

Would they actually work? Ray barely remembered what it was like when he didn't feel like shit. What would he be like if he actually had energy and a will to fight back all the time? Would this make him come to his senses and realize what a dangerous situation he was in? Would he even be himself anymore?

The Vagabond stopped the train wreck of his thoughts by reaching over for his hand again. Ray let him take it and tried to convince himself he'd be okay.

~*~

The Vagabond was in a fucking mood. If he were anyone else Ray wouldn’t hesitate to call it pouting, but he was a grown-ass man who regularly killed a fuckton of people. “Pouty” wasn’t something that could ever apply to him.

The weird thing was, Ray actually knew the reason for the mood.

“No one’s talking still?” he asked. The Vagabond’s face shifted as he nodded, to something Ray would label bitchy, except, again, grown-ass man, fuckton killer. Ray sighed sympathetically and pressed against his side so he could sneak a look at the laptop. Not like he expected a pop-up on the dark web announcing the culprit behind the apartment attempt or something. But the silence was just plain weird.

Someone putting out a hit on a big player like the Vagabond had to get some attention. He was infamous, had as many rivals wanting him dead as he did clients who wanted to hire him. Fuck, his tendency to wipe out entire gangs because someone crossed him was pretty much legendary. Even the most secret hit would affect how the others behaved ‒ they'd all be on edge as they watched for the outcome. 

But it was business as usual on the dark web. No one seemed to notice that one of their own had gone quiet, silently lurking, trying to figure out who was trying to kill him.

It almost wasn’t worth it, but Ray pulled out his phone and checked the crime blogs again, like he had over the past few days. Not like he expected the culprit to go bragging to the internet fanboys, but if anyone would notice any big players going quiet ‒ like, say, if they had called a failed hit and were expecting retaliation ‒ it would be those guys. But again, nothing. Not a fucking peep.

“So, what now?” Ray asked, and watched the Vagabond’s eyes narrow in thought. He pulled up a text document but didn’t type anything, just staring at the blinking cursor for a few minutes. Ray tried not to squirm with impatience.

Finally the Vagabond typed an answer. **I’ll put myself out there again. See who bites**

Ray sucked a breath between his teeth. “Think that’s a good idea?” 

**Not really. But it might flush them out**

“Or you might get shot, cause that’s a easy way to get set up. How many times that happen?” The Vagabond guiltily held up four fingers. “Fuck me, dude.”

The Vagabond laughed as he typed. **But you'll be there protecting my ass. You better not let me get shot**

Ray’s stomach swooped. “So, that's the plan?” he asked hesitantly. Mentally he was freaking out, because holy shit, the Vagabond wanted him to play bodyguard? Was he fucking nuts? That was his fucking life on the line and he wanted Ray's depressed ass looking out for him?

Sure he'd been taking the pills for about a week now, but as far as he could tell there wasn't much of a difference in how he felt. Surely he wasn't stable enough to go out on a real job, even if he wasn't participating in the actual action. Just protecting the ass of the single most important person in his life. No biggie.

**Do you have a better idea?** The Vagabond was giving him a serious look out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure out Ray's reaction. But Ray didn't let anything show, even though internally he was fucking blown away. The fucker really did trust him.

Swallowing hard, Ray shrugged indifferently. “Nah, that's better than anything I'd come up with.” 

He was used to stupidly risky plans that in all reality would never work out right. But so was the Vagabond, with his grim smile as he typed, letting the criminal world know he was open for jobs. At least they would have the advantage. No one would know the Vagabond had some barely-stable sniper watching his back. No one would see that coming.

~*~

Ray felt ri-damn-diculous.

He tugged at the bottom hem of the Vagabond’s hoodie, trying to make sure it was covering his ass. Then he adjusted the zipper, so just the right amount of skin was showing on his chest. He didn't want to show too much, just enough to make it obvious he wasn't wearing a shirt under it. And it was damn obvious from his bare legs coming out from the bottom edge that he was otherwise naked. Which was the plan, except he felt too fucking stupid to actually move.

The Vagabond was out in the motel room, just relaxing and probably waiting for Ray to get his ass back into bed. But he was too busy making a fucking idiot of himself in the bathroom, getting cleaned up and trying to figure out how to look sexy. And boy, was he failing. No one in their right mind would think his stick-thin pale legs were hot, and the rest of him wasn’t that great to look at either, despite his best attempts at fixing his hair.

It would never work. He didn't know the first damn thing about seducing someone, or how to get shit going after that. Sure, he'd seen enough porn to know the basics, but he'd never gotten around to the act itself. Every sexual encounter before had been too quick and casual, a blowjob or handjob in a back alley or spare room, one-time mutual things that were never brought up on the odd chance he saw the other guy again. And it wasn’t like he wanted more from them anyway ‒ he didn’t have any kind of connection with the other guys. Nothing like what he had with the Vagabond. If he fucked this up, he didn't think he could ever face the other man again.

Ray looked in the mirror and sighed, wishing he could do something about the red blotches on his face. They weren't going away and really wasn't helping his look. But he couldn't help it. Every time he thought about what he was about to do his stomach turned to jelly and his face and body heated back up. And, yeah, that was a positive reaction, but it really wasn't helping his nerves. At least it was obvious what he wanted.

Fuck it, he finally decided. The worst thing that could happen was he'd get his throat slit or something, and he'd been expecting that for ages. With one last deep breath, Ray opened the door and stepped into the cooler air of the larger room. He tried to walk sexily, but it probably just looked like he was going to fall over. 

Thank God the Vagabond didn't seem to notice at first. He was still staring at his laptop, not obviously focused on him. But when Ray didn't move any closer, the Vagabond finally looked up. His eyes widened as he looked Ray over, and for half a second Ray was afraid he was going to break out laughing.

Instead, his face shifted into an easy eager grin, and Ray relaxed minutely. That was positive. The Vagabond snapped the laptop shut and put it aside, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. There was something hungry in his eyes as he gestured Ray closer.

Taking another steadying breath, Ray stepped into his range. The Vagabond’s hands grabbed the hoodie pockets to pull him close, into the space between his legs, so they were right in each other’s space. Ray's bare skin brushed against the soft material of his sweatpants and shivers broke out all over his body. 

This was new, the whole thing was totally new for him, but in a really fucking excellent way. Ray smiled nervously when the Vagabond looked up at him, trying to look encouraging, or at least not like he was still thinking this was a bad idea. The Vagabond trailed his fingers down until he reached the hoodie hem and slid them under, onto the bare skin of his ass. It was like fire across his skin, and he took a shaky breath at the touch. The Vagabond responded with a grin that was very, very pleased. Holy fuck.

He tugged Ray forward, so Ray had to awkwardly slide into his lap. Wearing just the hoodie was a mistake, he could feel it, he probably didn't look sexy at all. He could barely focus on what the Vagabond was doing, just dimly aware of a hand sliding up his back. What the fuck had Ray been thinking, he should have just gone for another handjob instead of acting like he knew what he was doing, he was gonna fuck this up so bad‒ 

The Vagabond snapped him out of it by pressing his lips to his collarbone, trailing kisses over his skin. He'd pulled the hoodie zipper down while Ray wasn't paying attention, and now he was focusing his attention there while his fingers still ran up and down his back. Ray could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He was making Ray tremble all over, but his stomach was so cramped he felt sick. 

He rested his hands on the Vagabond’s broad shoulders, feeling the muscles through the thin t-shirt material. God the guy was built, and Ray finally had his chance to appreciate it. But he was still stuck, mentally and physically. He wanted to be confident and do some shit, but he didn't know _what_.

Just when he wasn't expecting anything else, the Vagabond moved his hand to the small of his back and pushed him forward more. Ray might have gasped with shock, because he wasn't expecting them to go _that_ far already and _holy shit_ he was being pressed right up against something warm and hard and _Jesus Christ_. The Vagabond’s hips were moving against his and Ray was making some kind of involuntary noise that he couldn’t stop, that was making the Vagabond grin against his skin as he moved his lips up Ray’s neck and…

Stopped.

Everything stopped, even the movement of his hips and his fingers on Ray’s skin. The Vagabond’s lips were still against the side of his neck, where Ray was suddenly aware was thudding rapidly with the beat of his too-fast heart.

_Shit_. He didn't know what the Vagabond was thinking but it probably wasn't good, not with that kind of reaction.

“Keep going,” he tried to encourage, but his words sounded fake even to his own ears. And the Vagabond wasn’t buying it ‒ he leaned back and took his hands off Ray’s body, leaving him sitting there feeling awkward and awful. He looked...disappointed. Ray folded into himself, wrapping his suddenly free hands around his own sides, feeling like he'd been dunked into freezing water. He fucked up, he knew it, but he couldn't get off his lap without looking even more like an idiot and at that point he just couldn't handle it.

The Vagabond’s hand was patting the bed behind him, searching for his phone without taking his eyes off Ray. He had a deadly serious look on his face that Ray couldn’t stand looking at. Jesus fuck, he had royally fucked this up. Why couldn't the Vagabond just kill him and end his misery?

The Vagabond was back in his space, phone in hand and typing rapidly. But the last thing Ray wanted to do was talk about it. He was too embarrassed and miserable, it felt like he was about to explode or something. Everything had gone wrong and he didn't know what to do. He tried to avoid looking at the phone's screen, but the Vagabond held it in front of his face anyway.

**Are you afraid of me?**

Ray shook his head rapidly. “No,” he blurted, not making eye contact. Then it occurred to him that that was a really guilty action, even though it was technically true. “I'm not,” he tried again, but his voice sounded too tight to be convincing.

The Vagabond obviously didn't believe him. His face was grim when he typed his next message. **You know I can tell when people are lying to me**

Ray's throat tightened. Somehow he felt even worse. The Vagabond thought he was lying. All the shit he'd done, he'd never lied to the guy, but that's what he believed, and how could he not? His chest hurt at the thought, and the ones that followed. The Vagabond had to hate him now, he had to, he was a fucking useless burden who went way out of line and now‒

A firm hand suddenly had his chin in its grip, and the Vagabond was dragging his head back up so he could see the phone's screen.

**What's wrong? Tell me**

It was like the pressure in his chest burst. Words came spilling out of him in a rush. “I'm not scared of you I just don't know what the _fuck_ I'm doing, okay? I don't know shit about what I'm supposed to do or how to act or how to make you happy besides jerking you off and I _thought_ if I could just get this shit started you'd take over and do the rest so I didn't fuck it up but‒” he cut himself off with a ragged breath, suddenly feeling sick. He'd said too much. The Vagabond was probably about to shove him off his lap and on the floor and take him out.

But he didn't. Ray could feel him staring at him, but he didn't move or type on his phone or anything. Ray shifted, suddenly wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and stop existing for a while.

“Can I get off your lap now?” he asked weakly, still not looking up. That seemed to spur the Vagabond into movement, because he gently guided Ray off his lap and onto the mattress. He even flung the blankets over him so his legs were covered. Ray tugged the hood up over his head, wanting to disappear under it completely. He felt terrible. This was easily the worst fuck-up _ever_ in the history of anything.

But it was out there now, and he couldn't do anything except wait for the Vagabond’s reaction. Which had to be coming, because he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, but Ray could hear the quiet thumps of his fingers on the phone's screen. It finally came into view, angled in front of his face so he had to read it.

**You can relax. I'm not mad at you**

Ray snorted, because that had to be a lie. But from the corner of his eye, from where he was staring determinedly at his knees, Ray saw the Vagabond’s hand raise and hover over his arm. He waited for the Vagabond to put his hand down, but he didn't, so Ray finally reached out and took it himself. The Vagabond’s hand tightened around his, and his thumb started rubbing the back of Ray's hand. Soothing. Maybe he really wasn't mad.

The Vagabond waited an uncomfortably long time before he started typing on his phone again. **You didn't do anything wrong, but this is something we should talk about before we go any further**

_Oh fucking hell_. Ray's free hand grabbed the edge of his hood as he pulled himself in tighter, yanking it down over his face when it heated up. It was official ‒ he wanted to die. “Dude, can we not?” he asked miserably. Bad enough he'd just made a fool of himself, but he didn't want to talk about what he'd just done.

The Vagabond’s hand tightened. That probably meant he was serious. Ray looked up at his face to confirm, and yep, that was his serious face. Dammit.

**I know we sort of just fell in bed together the first time, but this is something both parties have to be ready for.** The Vagabond deleted the first line and wrote another. **I'm not saying I'm not interested, but seeing you get all freaked out made me think you weren't, and were just doing it because you thought you had to**

Ray shook his head when he reached the end, trying to think of what to say that he hadn't already blurted out. “I told you, I don't really...know what I'm doing with this sort of thing.” That was embarrassing to admit, but he wasn't getting judgy vibes from the other man yet. “So I was worried about doing something stupid or fucking up. Not being nervous, about, you know, actually doing it. Like I'd be crazy to not want it. I mean, you're hot as fuck, I don't think anyone in their right mind would say no to you.”

The Vagabond made a weird choking sound, like that was the last thing he expected to hear. Ray raised his head to give him a look and was surprised to see him blushing. “Dude, I'm not wrong and you know it. Look in the fucking mirror.”

The Vagabond shook his head with an embarrassed expression, but he didn't look mad anymore. That was a fucking relief.

**Still... I don't want to push you into doing something when you feel uncomfortable about it.**

“You know that's like ninety-five percent of my life though, right?” Ray didn't even fucking know how to start explaining it. “Like, I never want to do anything, but once I go out and get it over with, I feel better.” Maybe not the best phrasing in a conversation about sex. “Even for shit I wanna do,” Ray added lamely. Nailed it.

The Vagabond still looked skeptical. “Look,” Ray muttered, “whatever it is you wanna do, I'm okay with it. At this point I don't think there's much you could do that’d surprise me, so just mark me down for whatever. I'm cool with it.”

From under his hoodie, Ray heard the Vagabond sigh. He couldn't tell if it was good or bad. The Vagabond took his time typing on his phone before he gave it back to him.

**Normally I'd say that is a whole different conversation we should have, but I think at this point it's rather moot.**

“Did you just use the word ‘moot’ in an actual text?”

A nudge on the knee told him to continue reading.

**But that doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about things that are bothering us. I know I'm not the most talkative person but I want to try because it's better to have communication between us, instead of just fumbling around all the time.**

Ray was confused. The Vagabond’s message sounded sincere, but their whole fucking relationship up to that point had been about just figuring out or knowing what the other wanted. And how he wanted to talk about their shit? “So now you want us to start sharing our feelings?” he asked grimly.

**I have for a while. It's a healthy part of any relationship. And I want you to feel safe sharing anything with me, even all the things that make you feel like shit**

“Why, though?” Ray asked softly. He still didn't get it, it felt like way too much effort to waste on someone like him.

**Because I want to help you. I want you to feel better. I want you to be happy and safe and I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen. That's why I got you those pills. That's why I don't want you to push yourself too much and feel like you need to fake anything for me.**

Ray could feel something in his chest get tighter with every word he read. He wanted to believe the Vagabond’s words, but how could he? He was just a fuck-up, nothing special, not someone who deserved nice things. Especially from the coldest motherfucker in the business.

The hand holding his squeezed. Ray took a deep breath, and tilted his head up, so he could see out from under the hood. The Vagabond met his eyes, looking so serious and worried. He looked at him like there was nothing else in the world.

Ray swallowed. “Can we talk about this later, please?” He couldn't handle any more, his chest felt too-tight and tender, and his brain was refusing to accept any more. 

Thank God the Vagabond didn't push him, just nodded and tucked his phone out of sight. Ray wiggled the rest of the way under the blankets while the Vagabond turned out all the lights. He wanted to get a pair of underwear, just so he could feel a little less vulnerable, but that meant he'd have to get up and that sure as shit wasn't happening.

Something hit him in the face. Ray grabbed at the thin fabric, and found it was a pair of his boxers. Bless the mind-reading bastard.

Ray wiggled into the underwear as the Vagabond slipped into bed on the other side. He cuddled right up into Ray’s space, just like he always did. Arms around his middle, chest pressed to his back. And just when Ray was wondering if things would be weird, the Vagabond kissed the back of his neck, very softly. Like he wasn't mad, like there was nothing wrong.

Maybe talking wasn't such a bad idea. As long as they didn't start lying to each other about shit.

~*~

**99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer…**

Ray hid his laugh in the fabric of his hood and texted back. **You don't even drink**

From his hiding spot in the bushes, Ray saw the Vagabond get his message on his phone. He couldn't see the smile under the mask, but he knew it was there. **Neither do you**

**So what would we do with all the beer?**

**Offer it to the asshole if he ever shows up?**

In reality it wasn't their contact who was late, they were the ones who were very early. Their first job together, and it was just an easy drop-off of some illicit items. Ray didn't know or care what it was, and neither did the Vagabond. But this was the first job since the attack, so if someone was going to start some shit, this was the perfect opportunity for them.

The pick-up had gone smoothly ‒ Ray had hid in the front seat of the ridiculously souped-up pickup truck while the Vagabond arranged the loading of the goods. Then more achingly long hours on the road, most of which Ray spent pointing out how guys who drove big trucks usually had little dicks. He almost hoped the Vagabond would use the opportunity to prove him wrong, but no luck, he just smiled and shook his head. 

Now they were waiting by some tin shed in the middle of nowhere for the drop-off and payment. Ray was being all sneaky in the bushes, exposing his body to all kinds of poison ivy and bugs. But it gave him a good angle of the Vagabond sitting on the tailgate and of the shed door, and it would be easy to get back in without being noticed.

The place was pretty damn isolated, and they had already scoped out an escape route, in case things went tits up. The Vagabond was a paranoid fucker, but at least that meant he already had their asses covered.

**So what are the odds this guy is actually the guy after us?**

**Honestly? Pretty slim.** They had already checked the boss out, and he seemed like just your average local crime boss. Not someone interested in picking a fight with the Vagabond. **But if this is legit, at least you get half the take**

Again, that offer. The Vagabond had suggested it when he had first accepted the job, and Ray had smiled and shrugged it off at the time. Because it felt too fucking weird to get paid when he wasn't really part of the job. But he had a feeling the Vagabond would insist, the fucker.

Headlights suddenly shone from behind the shed, and Ray tucked his phone away and pulled his gun up. He didn't have the scope attached, so it wouldn't reflect light, but at this distance he wouldn't need it. He also had a mini at his side for extra firepower. And knives, because why not? No such thing as overkill to the Vagabond, apparently.

The Vagabond put his phone away as well, turning towards the cars that were now pulling up. His posture totally changed, from hanging out to on alert, and Ray suppressed a shiver. That was really fucking cool.

The boss jumped out with his gang and thankfully didn't bother with the posturing bullshitting phase, getting right down to business. Ray watched as he chatted at the Vagabond while his people unloaded the truck bed and brought the stuff into the building. Everyone moved quickly, with plenty of careful looks at the Vagabond. Given his reputation, Ray didn't blame them. But they didn't seem overly nervous, like they were planning something else.

So far so good. But if they were gonna pull some shit it would be when the goods were unloaded but before the final payment. Because why bother with extra effort if you were just gonna kill the guy? Ray exhaled deeply and positioned his gun so the sights were dead on the boss’s head. He was ready.

The moment came and went. The truck was fully unloaded, the briefcase of money handed to the Vagabond. The boss didn't seem to notice, he was too busy telling some long story that actually sounded pretty funny. But Ray could see the tension in the Vagabond’s shoulders. It was time to go.

Ray was just about to make his sneaky way to the truck when a noise off to the side froze him in place. He barely turned his head, but from the corner of his eye he saw movement in the bushes. Shit. The Vagabond and the boss hasn't noticed, but one of his crew had. And was heading that direction.

_Fucking goddamn shit. _Ray mentally scrolled through his list of swears as the guy stopped a few yards away at the nose of the truck, staring at the bushes. He wasn't facing Ray’s direction, but he was close enough to definitely notice if he made a run for it. Ray was stuck. If he didn't get in the Vagabond would leave him behind and then he'd be totally boned.__

____

____

He should have hid in the fucking cab again.

A shot fired. Ray didn't flinch when he heard the bullet strike through trees, but the guy nosing around jumped and shrieked like a girl. Glancing over, Ray saw the Vagabond, with his gun still up and pointed at Mr. Nosey. Even with the mask on, he looked _fucking pissed_.

“Kerry, what the fuck are you doing?” The boss snapped, staring at his guy like he'd just grown a second head. The guy ‒ Kerry ‒ was looking back and forth from the Vagabond to the bushes to the truck, obviously freaking out.

“I thought I heard something!” he blabbed, edging away from the truck, going the long way around so he didn't get closer to the Vagabond. The Vagabond kept him covered with the gun, full murder-glare coming from the mask. Ray shifted his focus to the boss, ready to jump out shooting in case this was a trick. But the boss looked pissed too, shaking his head at the guy.

__“You're a fucking idiot. You're lucky he didn't just shoot you. I would've,” he said to the Vagabond with an indifferent shrug. Ray thought maybe he was joking, but it was hard to tell. The guy scurried off to the safety of the shed, and the Vagabond finally lowered his gun._ _

__Still glaring like a motherfucker, the Vagabond stalked towards the truck. The boss walked away like he was totally unfazed, but the rest of the gang watched carefully, in case the Vagabond was about to flip out. He opened the drivers door and paused for one last menacing look. But the pause was really for Ray to slip out from under cover and slide in the truck._ _

__Keeping his head down, he awkwardly balled up in the footwell on the passenger's side. He could barely breathe around his ribs and the nerves clenching his stomach. If they noticed, _fuck_ if they noticed the whole thing would go balls up and he wouldn't be able to help in time._ _

__From his vantage, Ray could only see the Vagabond, getting in and starting the engine. He didn't even glance down at Ray, keeping his eyes open for one last double-cross before driving off. The glare stayed in his eyes even after they were out of sight from the shed, until he was only barely lit up from the dashboard._ _

__Then he blinked and the look was gone. Ray watched the tension slowly ease out of him as his fingers loosened on the wheel. They were out safe._ _

__Ray breathed a sigh of relief, and groaned when his ribs ached. “Fucking hell,” he whined as he unkinked himself to sit up on the seat properly. He couldn't fucking believe they had made it out, especially after that close call. “We're not doing that bullshit again. From now on I'm only hiding in buildings where no _fucking rabbits_ can blow my cover. God dammit.”_ _

__The Vagabond gasped. Ray's attention snapped over to him. His shoulders were shaking, and he curled up over the wheel. “Shit, are you alright?” Ray asked, worry curling in his stomach. Had he gotten hurt somehow?_ _

__The Vagabond shook his head as he reached up and pulled off his mask. His face was split was a massive grin. He was actually silently laughing so hard tears were leaking from his eyes, almost doubled over the steering wheel._ _

__His face, and the relief of a job well done, made Ray laugh too. And then they couldn't stop. They giggled all the way down to the highway, helplessly laughing at the ridiculousness of what happened. Ray couldn't fucking stop, every time he looked at the Vagabond he just started laughing again, so much that his ribs started aching again._ _

__The Vagabond finally got control of himself and held his hand up. Ray high-fived it and held on, still grinning to himself. Not bad for their first job. He'd take it._ _

__~*~_ _

__Naturally, Ray used his half of the take on video games. He was still salty that he had left his old consoles behind when they fled the apartment, but there was a new system he decided to splurge on. The best part was that it was not only handheld, it easily allowed multi-player. It turned out the Vagabond was just as lethal at Mario Kart as he was in real life, but Ray was giving him a run for money._ _

__They swore and bumped at each other’s shoulders, lounging on the hotel bed. It felt so familiar and good after weeks of being uprooted. Just like normal, like they were back in the apartment with nothing to worry about._ _

__A phone going off ruined the fun with all the subtlety of a gunshot. Ray jumped. For half a second, he didn't recognize the tone. But the Vagabond’s attention had snapped straight to the source and was staring it down. It was Ray's phone. The one that had been silent for months. Ringing like it had a damn right to be making noise._ _

__Ray swallowed hard and shot the Vagabond a questioning look. This was bad. Only a handful of people could have that number. He'd ditched his old one when he moved east, but this was the new one he'd used for a few jobs before he stopped. No one should be calling him now, not when he hadn't been active for months._ _

__The Vagabond raised his eyebrows in response, so Ray took that as the go-ahead to pick up. He didn't want to, but he was sure the Vagabond wanted to know who it was, if only to assess if it was a threat. He was already pushing into Ray's space, just like before, leaning against his back so he could hear when Ray pushed the answer button._ _

__“Hello?” Ray asked tentatively._ _

__The voice on the end of the line sounded far away and tinny, but there was no mistaking who it was. “How's it goin’ Brownman?”_ _

___No._ Ray felt his stomach drop at the familiar voice on the other end. He suddenly felt very cold. _Not him._ “Hey boss,” he answered hollowly._ _

__The Vagabond twitched behind him, suddenly even more tense than he had been. Ray scrambled for the arm around his waist, desperate for him to stay put. He was the only thing keeping Ray upright as his body started to react to panic. There was already a too-tight pressure on his chest, he could barely breathe, much less get the words out. “How’d you get this number?”_ _

__“A little birdie told us he ran into you in Liberty. All I had to do was ask around for a sniper and there you were.” His old boss’s voice was cold, not like it's usual half-laughing tone. “Did you really think we weren't gonna find you? My guys found your apartment without even breaking a sweat, were you even trying?”_ _

__Ray squeezed his eyes closed as something heavy started leaching through his body. Of course they'd been behind it. The Vagabond hadn't been the target after all. They'd been after him, they'd _always_ been after him and like a stupid idiot he hadn't been hiding him tracks. _ _

__The Vagabond tightened his arms around him, pulling him back against his chest, but Ray couldn't focus on him. Everything was falling apart around him and he couldn't fucking stop it. “Why are you doing this?” Ray asked, pointlessly. “Why can't you leave me alone?”_ _

__“You know why, kid. You can't leave this crew unless you're dead.” His old boss’s laugh had never sounded so cold. “You decided that yourself when you left.”_ _

__Ray's breath was stuttering, the panic finally taking over. He squeezed his eyes closed as the darkness started growing around the edges. This was it, it was all over now, they found him once they could find him again, there was no way‒_ _

__The phone was abruptly ripped out of his hand. He was barely aware of movement around him before the Vagabond was grabbing him, yanking him to his feet and out the door._ _

__Ray let himself get dragged out of the building and across the lot to the car. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He was barely aware of the Vagabond scanning the area frantically, watching for an attack as he urged Ray into the car. Doors slammed and then the Vagabond was in the front seat, driving them away._ _

__They were barely on the freeway before the panic attack completely took over._ _

__~*~_ _

__Ray stared out the window at the distant trees, feeling sick and exhausted. The panic attack was finally over, but it didn't make him feel any better. Now all he was feeling was the cold heavy dread weighing him down, while his thoughts whirled, too fast to make an impact, but enough to cloud his mind. It was frankly amazing how fast he had gone from feeling mostly okay to feeling like the worst shit ever._ _

__It was worse, so much worse, because now he _knew_ they were still after him, and that thought kept sticking in his mind, going over and over it like a stuck disc. They knew he was out. They could find him again. They weren't going to stop until he was dead. They'd found him once, they'd find him again. And he wouldn't get so lucky again, he'd be fucking dead. And that shouldn't matter since he'd been wanting to die for so long, but now..._ _

__At least the Vagabond had his shit together still. He'd been the one to get them out, who had driven like a maniac to keep anyone off their trail. Ray was distantly aware that he'd chucked Ray's phone out the window as they were going eighty down the freeway. He knew just as well as Ray that they could figure out where he was from his cell phone’s signal._ _

__The Vagabond knew what he was doing. This probably wasn't the first time he'd had to haul ass to safety. Now he had them stopped in a wooded park away from the road, and unless Ray was totally off, he was switching the plates. Because of course he carried spares._ _

__He'd also kept one hand on him when Ray had collapsed in his panic attack in the front seat. It stayed on the back of his neck, under the hood, as he totally lost all his shit. Like he was still trying to help. Except this wasn't really his problem. They weren't really after him. He wasn't the target and they didn't know he’d been in the apartment too. He could still totally split and get away, like he always did. And he'd finally be free from Ray's worthless ass._ _

__He should go, Ray realized with a soft pang. He should just get his shit from the car and go, find somewhere else to hide until they inevitably found him. It would be better that way, there would be less risk of the Vagabond being exposed. He couldn't let the Vagabond get caught because he was such a fuckup._ _

__It would suck to be without him, but probably not for much longer._ _

__Ray opened the car door and stepped out. The humid air wrapped around him like a clingy blanket, almost suffocating. The grit under his feet hurt ‒ he hadn't even changed out of his pajamas and put on shoes. He wondered of the Vagabond had grabbed them, or if he'd have to hoof it barefoot. Did it even fucking matter?_ _

__The Vagabond looked up when Ray started moving towards the trunk. His expression shifted from focused to worried as he got to his feet. Ray turned away, not wanting to look at him. He didn't want to go, but he couldn't stay. He'd already fucked up all the Vagabond’s plans enough, he should just let him go away and never have to deal with him again._ _

__The Vagabond got up when Ray put his hands on the trunk. He got to Ray's side in a second, getting in his space, trying to look him in the eyes. Ray squeezed them closed, hating the brief glimpse he got of the concern in them. This was all his fault, everything, the Vagabond shouldn't be looking at him that way. He didn't deserve that look. He should never have gotten so close._ _

__Ray swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to make words come out. He wanted to say it'd been good being with him, even after all the shit, but the words wouldn't come. He couldn't _fucking say it_ , and then the Vagabond had his arms around him. Pulling Ray in close, until he couldn't feel anything but the broad chest pressing to his, the arms tight around his middle and across this shoulders. It was just like the hug from the coffee shop. Except this one wasn't ending._ _

__He didn't let go even when the fucking tears started again and Ray couldn't stop himself from clinging back. He couldn't stop, couldn't let go. He didn't want to._ _

__~*~_ _

__Ray wasn't sure where they were. They had arrived at some tiny cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere sometime in the early morning, and the Vagabond hadn't given him much time to look around. He'd just led Ray into the bedroom, pulled some blankets and a big square fan out of somewhere, and given him just enough of a shove to tell him get in bed._ _

__Ray had rolled himself into his usual burrito as the Vagabond set up the fan so it pointed at the bed. But he didn't join him, even though he had to be tired after driving all night. Ray could hear him banging around somewhere else in the house, but he couldn't get enough interest to go check it out._ _

__He wanted to sleep, but there was no fucking way he could. He was exhausted, drained out and empty, but the fear and dread had settled heavy in the back of his mind. If he closed his eyes and listened, he knew he wouldn't sleep again._ _

__Not that it mattered. Everything was ruined, nothing could ever be right again, so what was the fucking point? He just wanted to slip into an apathetic coma and just go away, stop existing. That sounded really fucking nice, except it just wasn't happening. The one time he wanted to feel nothing, and he couldn't._ _

__The room was too hot and close, even with the fan. He couldn't get comfortable enough to sink back into feeling nothing again. Even the great heaviness would be better than the emotions threatening to swamp him. But he couldn't give in, not like he used to, just ignoring everything until nothing mattered. Too many things mattered now. It was all fucked up._ _

__Maybe it had been hours, or minutes, but Ray finally gave up. He couldn't pretend anymore, he couldn't keep fighting his brain. What was the point just lying there anymore?_ _

__The Vagabond jerked to attention when Ray wandered into the kitchen. Like he was drawn to Ray’s side, he got to his feet and came over to him, his eyebrows in a worried frown. There was no respect to his space when the Vagabond put his hands on his shoulders, so close his chest was brushing Ray's arm as he breathed. He was staring at him like he was trying to pick him apart, and Ray was weirdly okay with that for once, because that meant he didn't have to say anything and the Vagabond just got it._ _

__He would have gotten it anyway when Ray's stomach growled obnoxiously. The other man just smiled and nudged him towards the table as he moved into the kitchen. Because somehow he knew there'd be food in a clearly uninhabited house._ _

__The Vagabond had his laptop set up on the wobbly table, sprawling more cords than it usually did. Maybe it took more effort to get onto the dark web from the boonies. Ray glanced at the screen, and froze when his heart lurched in panic. There they were. His old crew. He'd recognize their mugshots anywhere._ _

__Ray held his breath as he looked at them. The same old faces, the ones he used to know so well. It was strange looking at them from the other side of the screen, knowing that they were the ones after him. It hurt, but it was just another ache to be added to the pile of pain and misery he was already dealing with._ _

__“How do you know it was them?” Ray asked, his voice sounding scratchy and dead. It felt like he was being swamped, drowned under the horrible knowledge that he was about to lose everything. The Vagabond knew exactly who was after him now. Even he wasn't crazy enough to go up against them. Not over Ray._ _

__The Vagabond made a grabby motion towards his phone sitting on the table, and Ray passed it over. Something was already heating up in a pot on the stove. The Vagabond gave it an idle stir as he typed an answer and gave the phone back._ _

__**They tried to hire me to kill you** _ _

__Of course they had. The laugh that snapped out of Ray was so bitter he could taste it. They wanted the best, the one who would really get the job done, so of course they would hire the Vagabond. “You should do it. At least you'll get paid.”_ _

__The Vagabond didn't laugh, and he also didn't pull a gun and blow Ray's head off. He just looked so disappointed as he slowly shook his head. Ray stared at the floor, somehow feeling even more horrible. Even with the offer of who-knew how much money, the Vagabond still wouldn't kill him. It was all so stupid Ray wanted to scream._ _

__He wondered if that's why the Vagabond stopped talking, because it felt like every time opened his mouth he'd just start screaming and never stop._ _

__Instead he sunk down onto the cold folding chair, a lump in his throat, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to figure out how to tell the Vagabond to just do him a favor and end him for good. It'd be better that way._ _

__The Vagabond walked back over to him, each step sounding deliberate. He took the chair next to Ray's, closer to the laptop, but their knees were touching under the table. He didn't look disappointed anymore, just very sad in a way that made it hard to look at him. He switched to a text doc on the laptop and typed._ _

__**You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. But I want to help.** _ _

__Nothing could help him but a bullet in the head, but Ray didn't say it. He knew what the Vagabond was really offering._ _

__There was no emotion in his voice when he finally got the words out. “You don't have to. I'm not‒ you've already done too much. Just take the job and get the money. You'll be better off.”_ _

__The Vagabond gave him a very deadpan eyebrow raise. He didn't even bother to type a response, just highlighted a section of his first line. **I want to help.**_ _

__Ray's throat felt too tight. Fucking stubborn bastard. “It's not fucking worth it. You know that. It's not worth picking a fight with them over me.”_ _

__**Why shouldn't I? You were ready to follow me after them when you thought they were after me, why shouldn't I do the same?** _ _

__That wasn't the same deal, and Ray knew it. “Because I'm fucking useless anyway, so it wasn't like I was gonna be a big help.” It was the truth, as much as he didn’t want to admit it outloud._ _

__The Vagabond shook his head and typed angrily. **That's not true. Do you think I would trust just anyone with my life? You know me, do you really think I didn't do any research after I found out about that sniper under the bed? I know how good you are, but that doesn't matter if I didn't already know I could trust you. And I do. I have for a while**_ _

__Ray's insides went even colder. The Vagabond had known who he was for months. Not some washed-up sniper, but a washed-up sniper who used to be part of the biggest gang on the west coast. The same gang who wanted to string him by his intestines from the skyscrapers. And he still stuck around. Ray couldn't figure it out._ _

__“If you know who they are,” he said, sounding hollow to his own ears, “you know what they're capable of. You can't go up against them and win. This whole fucking thing is pointless. I can't run forever and you can't kill them all.”_ _

__The Vagabond’s face shifted into a grim smile. **Not with that attitude**_ _

__It wasn't working. The Vagabond wasn't backing down. Instead he was still staring at Ray with those damn blue eyes, like he was so damn confident of his skills. Ray wanted to scream, lash out, _make him_ take him out so he could fucking stop existing and ruining his life. Everything would be better if he was dead. Better him than the Vagabond._ _

__Instead, feeling sick to his stomach, Ray slouched forward until his face was pressed to the grooved wood of the table. The Vagabond’s hand immediately went to the back of his neck, stroking the skin softly. Like he really did want to help._ _

__“Why do you fucking care?” Ray asked the table. The hand on his neck didn't move, but Ray could hear the keyboard being tapped carefully with one hand. Even after he was done Ray kept his head down, just tilting his head enough to read the screen._ _

__**I told you before, I want to help you. Because you're the only GOOD thing I have in my life and I care about you. And I'm a selfish asshole who wants to keep you around. If that means I have burn their city down for you I will** _ _

___Shit_. Ray closed his eyes and pressed his face to the table again. He couldn't take it. It was like there was something clogging his brain, preventing it from absorbing the words, even if he wanted to believe they were real. He knew it was his own fault the Vagabond felt responsible. Ray had gotten too close and made the Vagabond think he deserved help, that he was something special when he was really the biggest piece of shit in the world. _ _

__Ray could hear more typing, but he couldn't lift his head to look. He didn’t want to know. The typing was halting, sporadic, like the Vagabond was picking his words carefully. It took a long time. When Ray didn't move to read it, the hand on the back of his neck gently squeezed until he finally opened his eyes._ _

__**I know you’re having a hard time accepting everything I’m telling you, but its all true. You’re so important to me and I like having you around. So much. You don't know how much. You've made me feel normal for the first time in years. Even though I'm all fucked up I still found someone who I could trust with everything but still stuck around. So I'm not leaving you now. I won't let them hurt you ever again.** _ _

__Ray didn't answer or move, just letting his eyes drop when he was done reading. None of that could be true. It couldn't be and he hated that he wanted it to be. He was tired, so damn tired, of his own stupid bullshit, he _wanted_ to believe it and let the Vagabond do his thing, but he fucking couldn't. He couldn't take it._ _

__A quick tap of fingers on the keys brought his eyes up again._ _

__**Ryan** _ _

__Ray's mouth went dry. “That better not be what I fucking think it is,” he threatened vaguely, heart lodged somewhere in his throat. The Vagabond just cracked a crooked smile, eyes so soft, looking so fucking pleased with himself. Ray wanted to scream. “Why would you tell me that?” he whined._ _

__**Because I trust you** _ _

__So fuckingly stupidly simple. But it wasn't. He didn’t have the right to know his name, because if he knew his name and he knew his face then he could use them to tear the Vagabond apart and expose him to the world. It was so fucking dangerous._ _

__That one word ‒ _Ryan_ ‒ kept banging around through his brain. His name. His real name. God, he could see how the name fit his face, how exactly perfect it was. Ryan was the one who made him soup. Ryan was the one who had come and got him out of the apartment. Ryan was behind the mask shooting for his life and Ryan was the one who was ready to go to war for him._ _

__Ryan trusted him._ _

__“God, you’re just as fucked up as I am.” Ryan nodded and smiled._ _

__Ray's eyes strayed to the windows behind the current tab, all the information Ryan ‒ the Vagabond ‒ had pulled up. Police reports, surveillance footage, even a blueprint of the main tower. Somehow he'd already gotten through their defences and found their weak points. He was good. Really good. The best. If anyone could do this, it’d be him._ _

__“I don't wanna lose you.”_ _

__Ray whispered it into his sleeve, hoping the fabric muffled the words. His chest felt too achey to say it any louder. He might be able to make Ray's problems go away, but at what cost? He could decide that Ray wasn't worth the effort, which Ray already knew. Or he could die._ _

__It was a black hole, the thought of never having the Vagabond or Ryan around ever again. He couldn't even think it, or even the idea of it, before he was sucked into the darkest thoughts he couldn't escape. If that happened, he knew he'd finally get the balls to go through with offing himself. Nothing else would matter._ _

__**I don't want to lose you either.** Ryan looked just as devastated at the thought as Ray did. How fucking wild. He actually felt the same way. Ray had been so sure it was all one-sided but there the other guy was, ready to go to fuck everyone up for him. _ _

__Ray finally lifted his head, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard. Whatever was on the stove smelled really good. “I won't...I don't think I can help you. I can't go after them with you.” He felt so fucking weak admitting that, but it was true. He couldn't go after his old crew. He didn't know if he could even stand seeing them face-to-face, much less putting a bullet in their skulls._ _

__The Vagabond typed quickly before getting up to stir whatever was on the stove. **You won't have to. This isn't my first time taking down an empire. They'll never hurt you again, I promise. Just let me help you.**_ _

__What choice did he have? Ryan was going to do this, no matter how fucking stupid or pointless it was. Fuck it. If he could actually pull it off, Ray would be a free man._ _

__If not…he didn't even want to think about it._ _

__~*~_ _

__The summer afternoon heat was fucking oppressing. Ryan ‒ fucking hell, Ray still couldn't believe he got to know his name ‒ had finally gone to bed, stripping and sprawling like a starfish in front of the fan. But Ray didn't join him. For once he didn't want to spoon, because the idea of a hot body pressed against his made him want to peel his skin off._ _

__That and he didn't want to just lie there and be miserable. He could do that just fine sitting out on the porch and looking out over the view._ _

__Wherever they were was really pretty. Mountainy, but not like the mountains out west which were all rocky and sparse. This place was green like crazy, totally wild and overgrown. There was probably no one around for miles. Probably why Ryan had it as a hideaway._ _

__He could just wander off, Ray realized miserably. Just keep walking until he was never found, and a rattlesnake or puma or something got him. Or he could just get one of the guns and…_ _

__Ray slumped sideways against a post, resting his head on the peeling wood. He couldn't, not cause he didn't want to but he just...couldn't make himself do it. It was just like back in the apartment, where he was so ready to be done but just couldn't follow through. That wasn't even right though, he just didn't have the fucking energy or drive to do anything. But even now that he did, he couldn't make himself get up and move. Fucking useless._ _

__The wood floor creaked with quick footsteps. Ray turned his head to see Ryan up in the living room, looking around frantically until he spotted Ray out the open door. The way his shoulders relaxed in relief made Ray turn away, hating himself. He really shouldn't be looking at him that way, like he was glad he was still there. Now he couldn't think of offing himself and leaving Ryan to clean up his mess. The other guy didn't deserve that._ _

__He could hear Ryan approaching him from behind. He sat down too close, chest to Ray’s back, arms around his middle and legs out alongside his. Ray felt the press of lips on the back of his neck before Ryan’s cheek pressed to the spot. Even with the heat, it felt strangely comfortable. Ryan sighed and relaxed into the embrace, like there was nowhere else he'd rather be._ _

__Ray knew he was so fucked. He couldn't move, couldn't push the other guy off or goad him into slitting his throat. But he couldn't let himself relax and enjoy the embrace that reminded him how fucking much he fucked up. He should say something but he didn't know what. Every thought was overlapping with the other and nothing in the tangled mess made sense enough to say out loud._ _

__After a long enough time that Ray started to finally relax, even with his stupid brain making him feel like shit, Ryan gave his shoulder a nudge and got to his feet. Ray looked up at him when he stepped into Ray’s line of sight. He offered a hand, which Ray took and let him pull him to his feet. Ryan kept his hand, like they were a fucking highschool crush walking down the halls. Not a pair of criminals going through a house to get some guns._ _

__Ray waited patiently as Ryan unlocked the gun safe. His sniper was in there, along with a ton more. Ray idly wondered when his gun had wound up in there but decided not to bother. He probably didn't really want to know._ _

__Once they were armed, the familiar weight of the sniper against his right shoulder, they set off together down another dirt road until they got to a large overgrown field. Ryan motioned for Ray to set up at one end while he walked to the other. Ray got into position while the other guy set up a row of Diet Coke cans along a decrepit fence that bordered the field, topping each one off with water to keep them weighed down. When Ray checked the distance on his scope, keeping his action open, he guessed it was around 300 yards. Nothing to him._ _

__His confidence grew when he saw the expectant look on Ryan’s face when he returned to his side. 300 yards was out there for most rifles but still within range of his sniper, but not too close that it was insulting. At that distance, it was about accuracy._ _

__Ray loaded the clip with five rounds and clicked it in place. The bolt closed and locked down, Ray took the squishy pair of earplugs that Ryan offered and screwed them in while the other man did the same. He brought the familiar weight up to his shoulder, holding steady while getting a feel of the view through his scope. If he could get through the “o” in “Coke” each time he'd call it good._ _

__Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ryan hold up a pair of binoculars. Ray waited for him to get steady before he really got ready to fire. He eyed the trees, tracking the movement in the grass, and adjusted his aim. At this distance the wind wouldn't affect much, but it was a good habit to keep._ _

__He thumbed the safety off, taking a deep breath to settle down the burst of adrenaline before refocusing. His hands countered the slight shifts from his body finding its balance, keeping dead on the can. It would be easier with a rest to keep him steady, but he was good for a damn reason. The muffled sounds of his heart in his ears faded, until he could hear nothing but his breath. Through his scope, the letter on the can sharpened until it was the only thing he could see._ _

__Exhale._ _

__Squeeze._ _

__His first shot sent the can flying. Ray didn't stop to check where it landed, just ejected the shell and reloaded, moving on the the next. He didn't let the kick throw him off after every shot ‒ it was all about keeping steady the whole way through. Four more shots and the fence railing was clear. Ray clicked on the safety and opened the bolt, catching the last ejected shell mid-air. Damn he was good._ _

__Ryan’s face was a portrait of surprised admiration. “Think I've still got it?” Ray asked with a cheeky grin, his voice sounding muffled through the earplugs. Ryan turned to look at him, dead-on and expressionless, before he broke onto the biggest grin Ray had ever seen on his face. He almost looked as delighted as Ray was._ _

__Ray followed him across the field where they examined the remains of the cans. Most had blown apart completely since he hit the weaker metal in the middle, but it was easy to identify where the bullets had struck. Ray's aim was still good ‒ he had managed to hit the lettering each time._ _

__He wasn't expecting the sudden arm around his shoulder, and the very enthusiastic half-hug. Ryan was grinning like a madman, more excited than Ray had ever seen him. Probably because he was finally seeing with his own eyes just how good Ray really was. It made his insides glow, getting looked at like that._ _

__Ryan waved him towards the other end, so he'd be shooting the long way down the field. He took his sweet time setting up, since he had to be over double the distance away. Ray checked to be sure, keeping the action open and the barrel pointed well away from the blurry figure at the other end of the field. More like 900 yards. That’d be a proper challenge for his gun._ _

__Ryan rejoined him as Ray took his time getting his shot ready. He refocused his scope until he could see the definition of the cans, not just a silvery glint against brown wood. This wasn't about precision, not at this distance, but he had to be able to hit the damn things. He wished he was shooting at a proper target, so he could see how off his aim was, but this would have to do. He'd shot under worse conditions._ _

__Instead of using his clip, Ray manually loaded the first shell, sliding the bolt into place and shoving a handful in his hoodie pocket. He took his time lining it up before pushing the safety off, taking a deep breath to hold steady. His focus returned, narrowing the world to the sight of the can and the sound of air in his lungs._ _

__Exhale._ _

__Squeeze._ _

__After the first shot Ray checked that the can actually was hit before he moved to the next. It was harder at this distance, trying to accommodate the wind and each slight change of posture. He swore miserably when he missed the third can, but he got it on the next shot, and continued until he the fence was totally clear._ _

__He already knew he hadn't been perfect like the first round. Not just the whiffed shot, he could tell he hadn't been as accurate as he'd been before. Ryan reserved his judgement until they crossed the field to examine the cans. On closer inspection it looked like the last shot had nicked the fence rather than the can, but that was fucking close enough. If Ray had been aiming for a person's chest, being off by that amount just meant he'd hit somewhere else on the body. Still enough to drop a person._ _

__It wasn't perfect though. Ryan seemed satisfied with the results as they picked up the cans, a small grin hiding on his face. But Ray wasn't happy enough to call it good. Out on the street was totally different from some abandoned field. He'd be shooting to kill, to protect Ryan's life. He couldn't afford to miss._ _

__Ray just had to do better._ _

__~*~_ _

__Even though it was still early morning, it was stupidly muggy and hot already. Ray hated the South for that reason alone, and for all the side-eye he'd been given over the last few days as they made their way west. The crisp air-conditioning of the convenience store was a blessed relief as he stepped in. It was so early they had donuts in the little bakery section by the coffee, and he could smell them from the wall of coolers._ _

__But he couldn't be deterred. He had to get a Diet Coke for Ryan, because he'd woken up to the terrifying revelation that his friend didn't have any caffeine to start the day. Poor guy was a mess without his morning dose of chemicals. He was still asleep, so Ray made it his mission to go out and get him his sustenance._ _

__There was the lingering fear in the back of his mind still, that his old crew could swoop down at any second and take him out. But they were still states away from their city, and Ryan was paranoid. There was no way they could track him to that specific convenience store at that specific moment as he paid cash for the bottle in his hand. He wasn't worried._ _

__The convenience store was right across the street from the run-down hotel. Ray jogged across the empty street to their room. He opened the door, and froze. Ryan was standing by the bed, his hair a mess and still wearing his sleep clothes. He looked alarmed and shocked, like Ray had interrupted his pacing._ _

__But as soon as he saw him, Ryan slumped, the intense look melting off his face as he sank down onto the bed. His head hung down, hair loose around his shoulders as he curled into himself. Ray could hear him breathing like he was trying to calm himself down. Slow, measured breaths that filled the space between them._ _

___Shit._ Ray felt an anxious knot grow back in his stomach. Something was wrong. He was upset, but why? A nightmare? Some threat? He'd looked so relieved to see Ray, had he just woken up alone and found Ray missing?_ _

__Oh. Yeah, that made sense. Ray was a fucking idiot._ _

__Feeling deep deep shame settle in his stomach, he walked over to where Ryan was slumped on the bed. Lamely, Ray held out the soda, instead of smacking himself in the forehead with it like he wanted. Still not looking at him, Ryan took it, but didn’t move to drink it or anything. It hung loosely in his hand as he breathed deeply through his nose._ _

__Ray sunk onto the bed next to him, wondering how badly he'd fucked it up. It hadn't even occurred to him that Ryan would freak out if he woke up alone. He probably thought Ray had been kidnapped or got got or something. The guilt in his stomach clenched painfully. He hadn't even thought about it._ _

__“Sorry.” It sounded too small in the silent room. “I didn't think‒ I won't do it again. I'm sorry.”_ _

__Ryan shook his head, lifting it so he could look over at Ray. There was still something deeply worried in his eyes. Ray didn't move away when Ryan leaned closer, one hand going around the back of Ray's neck. Ray's own hand came up to, to twine through his hair as Ryan kissed him, very softly, over and over. He pressed closer and closer with each kiss, until there were embracing tightly, chest to chest. Each kiss felt so strong, so full of emotion. Like he was trying to convince himself that Ray was really there._ _

__The worry in Ray's stomach faded, pushed away quickly by the intense heat that was building. The kisses grew longer, deeper, and Ray sure as fuck wasn't going to let it stop anytime soon. He started leaning back on the bed, and the hand in Ryan's hair pulled him down too, so he was lying on top of him, perfect heat and weight in all the right places. Ray wrapped an encouraging leg around his waist, bringing him even closer. Fuck the hell yes._ _

__Ryan kept trying to pull away, probably to sit up and get his phone and talk about this, but Ray was an asshole who kept going after his lips. And it was all Ryan's fault that he kept coming back to kiss him, instead of following through with pulling back. There was some serious evidence that he didn't really want to go anywhere anyway, and Ray was absolutely going to use that to his advantage._ _

__Finally Ryan very determinedly pushed away, so he could look down at Ray without getting pulled back down. Even though the concerned eyebrow frown was still there, Ray was very happy to see his face was totally flushed, pupils blown wide open. He was breathing hard again, but for a totally different reason. All thanks to Ray._ _

__Ray tried to put a sexy look on his face as he looked up at him. “Come on, Ryan,” he whispered, watching Ryan's lips part at the sound of his name. “Don't stop.”_ _

__He actually felt Ryan’s dick twitch against his leg. He stared down at him for a long second before closing his eyes and shaking his head. Before Ray could say anything else, Ryan pressed his hand on his chest, holding him down. He patted it twice, then tapped him with one finger. Then he got up and fucking booked it to the bathroom._ _

__Ray waited, not moving an inch. If he was right, the two taps meant stay, the finger meant one minute, and running to the bathroom meant…_ _

__Ryan reappeared, bottle of complimentary lotion in his hand. Ray grinned as he hurried over and crawled right back on top of him. Worried eyebrows frown was gone completely. There was a look of complete hunger on his face, a readiness Ray wanted to embrace. He was right there with him._ _

__He got his hands under Ryan's shirt as the other guy pulled on the zipper of his hoodie. Ryan pulled back to get it over his head, then came right back to getting Ray out of his clothes. Ray worked with him, pushing away the very unwanted thought that this was the first deliberate time they were getting naked around each other. But he wasn't gonna bitch out this time._ _

__Both shirtless, Ryan leaned back down for a kiss, running his hands up and down Ray's sides. It felt amazing, more than it should, and it was driving Ray wild. Rather than do the same, Ray kept his hands in Ryan's hair, where just the right tug made him hiss against his mouth. Their hips were moving together, Ray's jeans against the soft cotton of Ryan's sweatpants, and that needed to be taken care of fucking pronto. Like Ryan read his mind, he pulled away, panting, to do just that._ _

__Ryan hesitated before he pulled Ray's jeans off fully, glancing up at him to make sure he had the go-ahead. Ray sucked a breath through his teeth and nodded at him eagerly. He absolutely fucking loved the view he had of Ryan, all those amazing muscles out on display. And the scars. There really were too many of them, across his arms and chest, even a very deliberate-looking cut across his stomach. Discolored burns, puckered round ones from bullet wounds, everything. A lot of people had tried very hard to end his life._ _

__Even with the heavy heat in his stomach, Ray felt a bright bloom of anger. Was this how Ryan felt, fucking livid at the thought of someone fucking up his buddy? That explained a thing or two._ _

__Ryan dropped his pants to the side, and stopped to smile down at him. Ray sucked a breath. It was the exact same smile from last time, and even that reminder wasn't enough to stop Ray from getting harder. Ryan met his eye and pulled the hair tie around his wrist off with his teeth. Never breaking eye contact, he pulled his hair up and back into a ponytail, every motion purposeful and deliberate._ _

__Ray swallowed hard. Ryan looked like he was either gonna murder him or give him a blowjob. Ray knew which he'd prefer._ _

__He slid off the end of the bed, so he was on his knees in front of Ray. Biting his lip at the immediate jolting shock the sight gave him, Ray fell back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. He couldn't watch, he'd lose it right then and there. He thought he heard Ryan chuckle deeply before he felt the first touch._ _

__A slow, deliberate lick up the underside of his dick made every hair stand on end. Ray sucked in a gasp so hard it hurt, clenching his eyes shut when it happened again. It felt amazing, better than amazing, like the best damn thing ever. He tried to buck his hips up, but immediately Ryan's hands were on him, holding him down. Okay, yeah, that was something he was one hundred percent okay with. Ray's moan cut off with a sharp gasp when he felt Ryan take him in fully._ _

__He strained against Ryan's grip, but couldn't move his hips at all. His attempts didn't even seem to register to the other guy. Ray could feel him moving his head up and down, sending waves of pleasure crashing through his body. Ray couldn't stop the crazy noises that kept coming from his mouth, especially as Ryan tightened the pressure on his hips and almost swallowed him completely down._ _

__It felt so good, but the back of his mind was kicking him over just laying there, taking it without reacting. How was Ryan supposed to know if he liked it?_ _

__Carefully, Ray reached his hand down, finding those fine long strands of hair. When he curled his fingers, he felt Ryan still right where he was. He could hear him breathing heavily through his nose. Like he was waiting for…_ _

__Fuuuuck. Ray squeezed his eyes closed tighter and deliberately tugged. Ryan's head slid up, then back down. Letting Ray guide him. He strained his hips again at the thought, but Ryan didn't let him move. All he could do was guide him, let him know the best way to get him off._ _

__God, the thought of what they were doing almost made Ray breathless. Why had it taken them so long to get to this shit? He was so close, the edge was just there, he just‒_ _

__Ryan pulled off of him._ _

__“God dammit!” Ray yelped. “You fucking piece of shit, fucking _asshole_!” Ryan had the gall to laugh at his fury. Ray glared up at him as he got from his knees onto the bed, straddling his hips. Ryan looked too damn pleased with himself as he planted one hand on Ray's shoulders, keeping him in place as he leaned down to kiss him hard. Ray thought about biting him in retaliation when an overwhelming fake smell caught his attention. The lotion. So they were going _there_._ _

__Ryan slicked his hand across his dick, making his hips buck up into Ryan's. For half a second Ray wondered if he'd thought totally wrong and _Ryan_ of all people was gonna bottom. But then he felt Ryan take them both in hand, and yeah, that was good too. _ _

__His hips were finally free and Ray used that advantage to buck up, driving his dick into Ryan's hand and against his own. That made the heat and pressure rise again, until he knew he was close. If the way it made Ryan's breath go all stuttery was any indication, the other guy loved that. Since they were face to face again, Ray could see the way his eyelids were fluttering, the breathless look on his face. It was amazing._ _

__Ray threaded his hand through the hair on the back of his neck, putting enough pressure to pull him down. Ray took over the kiss, feeling Ryan's arm tremble where it was propping him up. His grip on their dicks tightened, until Ray was gasping in this mouth. That wonderful hot feeling overtook him, making him jolt through his orgasm. With a strangled gasp, Ryan joined him._ _

__Ray watched the way his eyes squeezed closed, his mouth open but only the quietest of breaths coming out. He slumped down over Ray, not crushing him, but enough to feel his weight. Ray strained up to kiss his slack mouth. That made Ryan open his eyes, and that deep blue gaze was so calm and full of something Ray couldn't think about. A soft smile crossed his face, and Ray returned it. Not bad for round two._ _

__Ryan collapsed to the side, still breathing hard. He'd done most of the work, so that made sense. Ray scooted over to his side, even though he felt too hot and sticky to want to cuddle. But fuck it, Ryan pulled him to his side so how could they not spoon as the heat died down and their bodies stilled._ _

__The only thing that broke the moment was Ryan shifting in discomfort. Ray raised his head to watch him grab the Coke bottle, which had settled against his side, and move it out of the way._ _

__Seeing that made him remember his fuck-up. Sure it had led to sex, but he'd still made Ryan worry. Guilt seeped back into his mind and he shifted unhappily._ _

__“You sure you're not mad at me?” Ray asked softly. Ryan sighed and shook his head. The arm not around Ray reached out across the bed for his phone. Tracking his eyes up, Ray saw his swiping hand was coming up way short. Since his phone was all the way over on the nightstand._ _

__Ray snorted and reached down with his foot, feeling for his pants. He managed to hook the waistband and pulled them up enough so he could sit up and get his phone from the pocket. Ryan smiled in appreciation at his effort._ _

__Ray unlocked it and opened a note app, handing it over to Ryan. He settled back against Ryan's side so could see the screen as he typed. Ryan’s arm tightened around his waist comfortingly, pulling him closer. Fucking domestic, the two of them._ _

__**I'm mad at myself. That was really something we should have talked about first** _ _

__“I mean, why can't we talk now? We're both just laying here, I don't really have anything else planned, so...” Ray shrugged, glad to see a small smile lingering around Ryan's lips. “Why are you always so big on talking about stuff anyway?”_ _

__**I told you, it's healthy** _ _

__“Yeah, cause you and I are shining examples of a mental health.” Even with the sharp pinch on his side, Ray knew Ryan probably agreed. They were probably the most fucked-up pair out there. Talking wouldn't really change anything._ _

__**Well then consider it an attempt to** Ryan backspaced and started again. **trying to keep us both from being more messed up than we already are. Do you like having to guess what I'm thinking all the time?**_ _

___Yes_ , Ray selfishly wanted to admit. He liked how personal Ryan was with _just_ him, in the way that no one else ever got to see. All of Ryan's secrets and smiles were just for him. No one else got that._ _

__“Well, you gotta admit, I'm good at it by now,” he said instead. That was true too, at that point. Why did they need to talk when he knew exactly what each exasperated snort and sigh meant?_ _

__**But you just had to ask if I was mad. Which proves my point.** Bastard was right, dammit. Ray grumbled under his breath as Ryan deleted the text thread and started another._ _

__**I'll admit, I freaked out when I woke up and found you gone. I thought you'd been kidnapped, or worse just left me and I didn't know if should go after you or not** _ _

__Ray felt his heart lurch. The guilt was back curling in his stomach, but that wasn't all he was feeling. “Is me leaving really worse than me being kidnapped?” he asked softly._ _

__**Yes. If you were kidnapped I could just kill whoever got you.** Romantic. **But if you left**_ _

__The cursor blinked, but Ryan didn't type any more for a long time. Ray waited, watching him chew on his lip, clearly thinking hard. He had an idea about what he was trying to say, but obviously that didn't make it any easier to get out._ _

__**If you left that clearly meant you wanted to leave and I shouldn't go after you since you didn't want to be with me anymore. That's what I've been afraid of for months. Not that you'd turn me in or betray me but that you'd leave me alone again** _ _

___Holy shit,_ Ray thought miserably. How hard had it been for Ryan to admit that? He definitely wasn't looking Ray in the eye, letting the phone drop once Ray was done reading. Ray could feel the tension in the arm around his shoulders. He wondered if that's why the sleep cuddling had started, with Ryan being afraid he'd wake up and Ray would be gone. Never mind that back in the apartment it had been an impossibility, and he'd never taken any of the many opportunities since. He knew a thing or two about irrational fears._ _

__Ray scooted closer, shoving his head under Ryan's chin. Just like he expected, a gentle hand came up to play with his hair. He tried to imagine his life without that, and found he really didn't want to._ _

__“Let's just make this a standing rule, okay?” he said firmly. “If one of us goes off without letting the other know ‒ and I won't do that again, I promise ‒ let's just assume that means something bad happened and skip straight to the murder-y revenge step.”_ _

__The firm chest under his cheek shook as Ryan laughed his raspy chuckle. Ray lifted his hand, closing his fingers but keeping his pinkie out. Ryan immediately reached up and looped his pinkie with his. His finger was warm where it touched his skin._ _

__“I'm not leaving though,” Ray swore, even though the pinkie promise was perfectly binding. “I hope you're ready, you're fucking stuck with me forever now.”_ _

__Ryan didn't answer, but Ray felt him shift up so he could press a kiss to the top of his head. So that was good enough._ _

__~*~_ _

__Ray stared out the window, unblinking, as the city burned._ _

__From his view, he could see the tower, where the bosses lived, was completely consumed. Further off there were brighter points of light, columns of smoke plunging into the air. Safehouses, hideaways, garages and warehouses. They were all going up. Leaving nowhere for the survivors to hide. Easy pickings for a professional killer with a grudge._ _

__Ray had known they would go down like this, even before he had ever met Ryan. His old crew had been in charge too long, got too cocky. They'd built the empire on blood and explosives, and that's how they would always go down. It just needed a spark to set it off._ _

__But Ryan hadn't just gone for a spark. Oh no. He used a flamethrower. And a lot of C-4._ _

__He wanted to feel bad. He wanted to feel something other than the numbness that had settled in his stomach. But the numbness was better, much better, than the anxiety that had latched onto him as soon as he caught the first glimpse of the city. Even the pills weren't enough to stop the tightness in his throat that had grown as they drove down the streets he used to know so well. It had felt like everyone was watching him, like they knew he didn't belong anymore._ _

__Their “hideout” was right on the middle of the city, in the most lavish hotel. Ryan had pointed out it would be the last place they'd look for him, if they were still looking. He had a point, but it didn't really help how he felt.__

____

____

__But he had tried not to let it show. They were there for business, for a purpose, and he couldn't let how he felt affect Ryan. Not when the other guy would doing all the hard work, risking his life while Ray hid away. Ray had watched the stoic, fierce concentration grow on his face the closer and closer they got to the city. He'd grown more quiet, more focused as he prepped supplies and laid out his plans, even if he was still available for big-spoon duties every night._ _

__It had all fell apart when Ryan got ready to go out. Even without the mask, without the jacket, something about the way he had been standing said he was ready to murder someone. Ray knew that look well._ _

__Sitting on the ridiculously soft bed, had let his head fall, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. He didn't want to be left behind while Ryan was out risking his life, because what if he didn't come back? What if he ended up dead and left Ray alone in the city full of people who hated him and he'd never see his face or his smile again—_ _

__Ray had felt a hand on the back of his neck before he was pulled closer, so the Vagabond could put his arms around his shoulders as best he could while standing. Ray didn't open his eyes, just rested his head against his chest. He could feel his heart beating, the steadiness of his breath. He wanted to keep Ryan there forever, safe and together. But the city was waiting._ _

__Ryan had pulled back first, tilting Ray's face up to meet his eyes. They were so soft, but so full of that deadly assurance. Ray had felt a shiver run down his spine. Ryan had promised him. There was nothing that could stop him._ _

__Ray had wanted to say something then, but he couldn't. He'd never wished him luck before, or told him to be safe or any sappy nonsense. He couldn't start doing that now, in case it would jinx it. And then Ryan had gone, and soon after the destruction started._ _

__Ray was jerked back to reality when the hotel door opened. Somehow it had gotten light out while he hadn't been paying attention, the rising sun a peachy contrast to the smoke rising across the city. He didn't turn around, but he could see the weak reflection in the glass in front of him. Ryan was back._ _

__He didn't say anything, and neither did Ryan. He just came up behind him and put his arms around him. Even though he was heavy, his arms were comforting. He smelled like smoke._ _

__As the rising sun lit up more and more of the city, Ryan freed one hand to pull out his phone. He typed quickly, then offered it to Ray._ _

__**I promised** _ _

__~*~_ _

__Ray turned his head to watch out the rearview window as the city faded in the distance. The gap in the skyline where the tower used to be looked like a missing tooth in a smile. Gone, but not forever. Los fucking Santos had a way of recovering like nothing else. Something else would fill the space._ _

__It was just another gang, at the end of the day. Even the biggest one in the city couldn't last. Already there were more scrambling to get to the top, claim the throne of the criminal underworld._ _

__Ray didn't fucking care. It was him, and it was Ryan, calmly driving them away like he hadn't just done the impossible. He didn't care that he'd just caused a massive upset in the criminal underworld. He probably didn't even get just how fucking much he'd saved Ray's useless ass. He could finally breathe again._ _

__Ray reached across the console. Ryan took his hand without looking up from the road. A smile crossed his face, and Ray returned it. He was fine. They were fine._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to my beta, who put up with me while during the great shit-writing purge around mid-March. She gets the non-platonic hugs and kisses cause that's where we are in our relationship.
> 
> Part 3 is still in the works. Keep up the hassling.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its a miracle this chapter got finished. Not because I had a problem writing it, but editing it was a nightmare. Shout out to my beta for helping (and putting up with my nonsense. Continually). BTW, she's TakeThatUsername and lurks in the comments.

It was hell. It was torture. Ray was actually going to die. “Come on, man,” he moaned quietly, so only Ryan could hear. “Get it over with.”

Ryan didn’t pay him any attention. If anything, he moved slower, making Ray squirm with impatience. He looked like he was enjoying Ray's misery, smirking in that stupid way that meant he knew he was driving him nuts. Asshole.

“Just…fucking _do something_ already,” Ray begged, hunching in his hoodie. He felt too exposed, standing under the bright fluorescents of the drug store. There was some suburban lady standing at the end of an aisle way too close to them, looking at shampoo or some shit while her pink plastic kids screamed at each other. And Ryan was oblivious to it all, taking his damn sweet time looking over the options. He didn't even bother to speed it up. Instead he held the two boxes he was considering in one hand as he typed on his phone with the other.

**It's been a while since I've bought condoms. I need to make sure I'm getting the right size.**

“Fucking...hell, dude.” Ray had no idea what was taking so long. They were fucking condoms ‒ literally! ‒ so who cared what brand or what style they were? In the back of his mind he was aware that he _should_ care, since he’d most likely be on the receiving end, but that was something he couldn't even think about. He really didn't care, he just wanted to get the hell out of there, because it felt like everyone in the entire store had to know what they were doing. And that was just another excruciating thought to add to the rest.

Ryan finally made his decision, dropping a box into the basket on his arm with a nod. Ray sighed with relief that quickly turned into another groan when Ryan didn't go far. Now he was looking at lube, and Ray was honestly going to spontaneously combust with embarrassment. “Dude, seriously, just grab something so we can go, please.”

That got the suburban mom’s attention. She turned and eyed them like they were a speck of dust on her perfectly clean counters. Then her eyes drifted to what they were standing in front of, and she sniffed, loud enough for them to hear. That one sound held all the distastefulness in the world.

Ryan’s shoulders jerked up. He turned his head, body swiveling as well, to nail her with his most vicious murder-glare. Credit to her, she didn’t even flinch, just kept looking down her dainty nose at them. She finally turned away when one of her kids tried to murder the other. With one last sniff, she dragged them away, each step clearly prejudiced against their entire existence.

Ryan made a face at her back before turning back to Ray. He was grinning like it was some kind of fucking hilarious joke, but the smile dropped like a rock when he caught sight of Ray's face. Looking concerned, his thumbs typed a question quickly.

**Are you really bothered by all this?**

Ray shrugged and looked away. He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell the truth cause that was stupid. “It's no big deal,” he said instead, which should have been the truth. It shouldn't be a big deal, he _shouldn't_ be bothered. He was a grown-ass man who killed people for a living. He shouldn't be making a big deal over condoms.

Ryan frowned. His eyebrows were firmly in the ‘bullshit detected’ position. Of course he saw right through Ray. **Clearly it is. Your face is bright red**

Goddammit. Ray wanted to pull his hood over his head and disappear. He'd rather be in the middle of a firefight than have this conversation in the middle of a store. Ryan knew he was embarrassed, but he didn't want to tell him how much, or _why_. “I'm just…not used to this sort of thing.” 

**The sex thing or the condoms thing?**

Ray rubbed his hand over his face. “I mean, both, honestly? But the‒ this thing‒” he waved his hand at the row of condoms‒ “is kinda more immediate so…” he trailed off. God, talking sucked. How could he verbalize what the condoms _meant_ to him, in relation to _them_? Not to mention his immature brain was still stuck wigging out like a fucking idiot over the whole situation.

**You've never bought condoms before I take it?**

Ray laughed weakly. “Look at me, man. What do you think?” He gestured at himself in mock-grandeur. Ryan's expression didn't move. Shit. Ray stared at the floor, hating that he had to admit his shortcomings again. “I told you before, you and porn, that's kinda been it for me.” He shrugged dismissively. “It’s not like guys were lining up to knock at my back door, you know?”

Ryan's lips twitched, but he still looked concerned. **You never did the condom on the banana in high school?**

“No!” Ray looked up to see the bemused look on Ryan's face. “What, you did?” Ray chuckled when Ryan nodded confirmation. “Seriously? I didn't think that was actually a thing.”

**It was a real thing. About the only sex ed we got down south**

“More than I got,” Ray muttered. At Ryan's look, he shrugged and continued. “I was on the streets full time by the time I was fourteen. Kinda missed all that shit.”

Understanding finally lifted Ryan's eyebrows. He got it, thank God. Ray knew he would. He didn't have to explain anything else. 

Ryan stared down at his phone, thinking. Ray waited, watching a little old lady and a little old man make their little old way over to the adult diapers. He would feel so much better if they were having his conversation somewhere else, like their motel or the cabin or something. Not in public where everyone could hear them. 

Ryan finally nudged him so he could read what was on his phone. **The good news is the learning process is pretty fun**

Ray felt his face heat right back up. Dear God, Ryan was actually serious about having sex with him. Like, he knew that would be direct result of getting condoms, but thinking about sex and thinking about _sex with Ryan_ were two totally different things. The smug look on his face confirmed it.

Fuck, he couldn't even begin to verbalize the thoughts that immediately jumped into his head. And thank God, Ryan guessed that, and he didn't go typing anything mushy in response to Ray's unsaid worries. Instead he dropped two things of lube in the basket and wrapped his arm around Ray's shoulders, pulling him against his side in a confident hug. With that he finally steered them away from the “family planning” shit and over to the candy aisle. 

It was okay, Ray reminded himself. Ryan knew what he was doing, he had everything under control. Everything would be okay as long as Ryan acted like it was. Ray could just trust that he had his shit together and everything would be fine. _They_ would be fine.

~*~

Word got out, because it always did. Honestly, it had only been a matter of time before the criminal underworld and the entire internet figured out who was behind the annihilation of Ray’s old gang. 

There were theories at first ‒ it was the government, it was an inside job, it was the aliens. But that all ended as soon as someone hacked a security camera and got a shot of the Vagabond doing some good ol’ B&E on a building right before it went up in flames. From there it was all too easy to add shit together. 

Of course they didn't have all the crucial details, like if someone had hired the Vagabond to go nuclear and why. That led to still more theories, each wilder than the other. But most accepted the assumption that the crew had stiffed him or made the mistake of turning on him, and he'd retaliated, as was his way, by killing them all. 

No one could even guess that it was actually revenge for some depressed punk, and he was doing out of the goodness of his heart. The Vagabond didn't do charity cases or shit like that. Since it was in their best interests for the world to continue thinking of the Vagabond as a ruthless bastard, Ray and Ryan didn't bother to correct those assumptions. 

The jobs still came steadily. There were no hard feelings or grudges in the criminal world. In fact, many of the Vagabond’s employers were taking advantage of the unclaimed throne in Los Santos. Control of the city changed hands almost daily. Any stragglers left over from the old crew, who tried to reclaim their former glory, met very mysterious and grizzly ends. No one asked questions ‒ they knew better.

It was almost laughable, especially since no one even knew Ray was rolling out with him on almost every job. Wherever Ryan was hired, Ray was also there, lurking where he could, covering his buddy's incredible ass. It worked perfectly, because no one was expecting that, so they weren't looking for him. And he got to be useful, in a way, even though no one had actually been stupid enough to try to betray him after what had happened.

And Ray was totally fine with the secretness. He kinda preferred it, since he didn't have to deal with any people besides Ryan. And yeah it had some seriously dull moments since he wasn't actually _doing_ anything, but doing nothing while lurking on a sniper's perch was better than doing nothing wrapped up in blankets, slowly rotting in a crappy apartment. 

There were still bad days. When his lungs and limbs and brain just decided not to work, when he couldn't _do_ anything except lay there and stare at nothing. When that happened, Ryan would just pay for an extra day at whatever motel they were lodged at, and stayed in bed with him. Just like the old days at the apartment, except Ryan was a lot more generous with the cuddling and...other stuff.

Miraculously enough, though, the bad days were getting fewer. Or at least he had enough reasons to get up and ignore the heaviness, and the lurking feelings of shit. Most days, it just took seeing Ryan's encouraging smile to get him going. Boring shit and occasional moments of danger were just fine, as long as he had that stupid face.

~*~

“Can I put in a request?” Ray asked from his seat at the end of the stupidly plush bed. Ryan, from his place in front of the mirror, raised his eyebrow in expectation. “Can you wear suits like this, like, all the time?”

That got the laugh he was expecting, and a deliberate shake of his hips that had Ray biting his lip. Ryan was facing the glass, doing something complicated to his tie, leaving Ray staring at his back, covered by the shiny vest fabric, and his ass in perfectly tailored pants. And goddamn he was enjoying the view.

He didn't even fucking know what the job was, or why Ryan had to get all dressed up to do it, but he didn't give a fuck, not the way the other guy looked all cleaned up. It was fantastic, he loved it, and Ryan obviously did too, or at least he was loving Ray's attention. It didn't even matter that Ray wasn't tagging along, since they're be nowhere for his ass to lurk or anything. And that was fine, because that meant he could kick back and relax. 

And it also didn't hurt that for whatever reason (to keep up the image?) Ryan had sprung for a hotel room that was _significantly_ more lush than their usual. He didn't know shit about if it was actually luxury or not, but damn it felt like it. The bed was the softest thing in the world and the bathroom was actually spotless, that was all he cared about.

So, all things considered, he wouldn't be getting a better opportunity to finally go forward with his plan.

“Fuck me.” Ray whispered the words of soft admiration under his breath, but Ryan definitely heard it, since he met his eyes again in the mirror and wiggled his eyebrows. Ray knew Ryan thought he was just expressing his appreciation like he usually did (and he was) but that wasn't _just_ it. He took a deep breath, and tried to say the next part with as much firmness as he could. “I'm serious.”

Ryan froze like he'd just been hit with a crowbar. He turned away from the mirror, staring at Ray like he was trying figure out just _how_ serious he was. Ray met his eyes and shoved the nervousness as far as he could. “When you get back.”

Ryan's face melted into a grin, like Ray had just made his goddamned day. Giving up on the tie, he moved over to where Ray was sitting on the end of the bed. Ray tipped his head up, and Ryan's warm hands landed on his cheeks, holding his head gently as Ryan bent down. The kiss felt so sweet and tender Ray felt like barfing sprinkles, it was that amazing. Ryan was so into it, kissing him with everything he had. Ray knew he'd have no problem dragging him onto the bed right then and there, screw the job so he could screw him. But he couldn't do that.

With all the regret in the world, Ray pushed Ryan back after a minute. Fuck, the flushed and slightly giddy look on Ryan's face almost broke his resolve, but Ray held himself back. “So you better make it back in one piece,” he half-joked, but Ryan was already nodding. He hadn't moved his hands from Ray's cheeks, fingers stroking over his skin, and Ray had to fight down a shiver. Yep, it was gonna happen. For real happen.

Finally, reluctantly, Ryan pulled away and got his tie figured out. No blue and black jacket, just the one that went with the suit, but the mask was jammed in his back pocket to really tie the look together. When he left after one last kiss, Ray felt a mild twinge of worry about not going with him. But it would be fine. It wasn't like Ryan hadn't been doing his shit on his own for ages or anything. Besides, he had to get ready.

In the back of his mind, he knew that waiting so long would be agonizing. He knew his stupid brain would waffle between bitching out and wanting to go full ham until Ryan got back. But fuck, that's why he told him, so Ryan at least would be expecting it.  
And yeah, he knew Ryan would be totally okay with him backing out (again), but Ray didn't want to let him down again. That would just be too much.

At least he wouldn't have to try some bullshit seductive crap again. That shit just didn't work for him, and he didn't need to since Ryan was expecting it. Ray showered, threw on Ryan's hoodie (fucking good luck charm that was, but it was comfy as fuck) and crawled under the stupidly soft sheets. That shit was fantastic. He flipped through the premium channels offered, idly wondering if it would ruin the mood to put on some porn. But he ended up getting sucked into a trainwreck of a reality TV show, watching with entertained horror at the people who somehow managed to have worse lives than he did. It was the perfect distraction, taking up most of his brain space, so he could almost forget what was gonna happen when Ryan got back. 

There was just one blip on his mental radar ‒ he’d left the lube and condoms on the nightstand, where he could _just_ see them from the corner of his eye. Every time he did his heart lurched and he felt a thrill of nerves run down his spine. He couldn't tell if it was anticipation or actual nervousness, but that honestly didn't matter. He wanted it (wanted it last time, too) and it was gonna happen, in spite of all the fucking hang-ups in his head. 

Hours later, Ryan finally came back, no mask and looking slightly more rumpled than when he left. Ray blinked sleepily at him, almost totally relaxed in that nice floaty mood right before he fell asleep, but he perked back up quickly. He smiled a greeting, and was answered by the happiest grin he'd ever seen on Ryan's face. Oh yeah, he'd been looking forward to it too.

“How'd it go?” Ray asked softly, because he had to know. Ryan gave him a thumbs up as he unloaded knives and bullets from his pockets. Ray turned the TV off and angled towards him under the covers, propping his head up on one arm, trying to keep hold of the relaxed feeling. God damn, that suit. Whatever excuse he could find to get Ryan in it again, he would take. 

Ryan shed everything but his pants, strutting over to Ray's side of the bed confidently. Ray sucked a deep breath when Ryan climbed right on top of him, no hesitation at all. He tugged the covers most of the way down, but not enough to expose Ray entirely. Some tiny note of worry in Ray's brain shut up. Ryan knew what he was doing, confidence obvious on his face. He knew what he was dealing with this time, how nervous Ray was trying not to be. That had to be why he kept smiling so softly and kept running one of his hands through Ray's hair. When he leaned down so they could kiss, it was so soft Ray almost choked on his breath. He'd never felt anything so amazing.

Ryan kept kissing him, settling down on the bed with Ray completely under him. Like a big, clingy, kissy blanket. He kept going slow, like he was ready to take as long as he needed, like they had all the time in the world. Ray felt a flush of warmth in his chest, going along with the steadily growing heat a little further south. He actually felt like he wanted to say some mushy shit when Ryan finally pulled away, but he stopped when the other guy's attention turned to his neck. Bastard knew his weak spots.

As Ryan kept distracting him with amazing kisses, he settled his weight very deliberately on his hips, rocking against him with a sinful rhythm. One of Ray's hands found the base of his skull, lightly running through the long strands. His other hand somehow got caught up with Ryan's, gripping tightly with every movement that sent a thrill of pleasure through his body. When he yanked at Ryan's hair after a really good thrust, Ryan squeezed his hand back.

So…okay. That’s how their system was gonna work. Ray caught on quick, squeezing his fingers and holding on for dear life as Ryan finally left his neck alone. Without any better options, Ryan straight up grabbed the tag of the hoodie’s zipper in his teeth and yanked it down as far as he could without moving. Ray couldn't help snorting out a laugh that had Ryan looking up at him, laughter and something else in his eyes. It was almost too much, especially when he went straight to kissing at his chest, except the kisses weren't exactly what they were before. Ray could feel his lips moving in place, mouthing out words against his skin. Ones that he couldn't ever say.

Ray blinked up at the ceiling, trying to swallow down the lump that had jumped in his throat. He couldn't tell what Ryan was saying against his skin, but he could guess.  
Ray squeezed the hand in his as hard as he could, trying to convey that he got it. Ryan glanced up from his chest, eyes meeting his, so Ray could see exactly what was there. Fucking bastard was making it hard to breathe. Ray tried to make his face mirror that look, but he probably just looked constipated. But he at least had the ability to use words.

“I got it,” he assured Ryan in a whisper. “I get it.”

Ryan grinned like a madman before sitting up as much as he could. He was still holding his hand, and Ray found that at one point he had wrapped a leg around Ryan's hips, keeping him from going far. Ryan awkwardly leaned over and grabbed the lube from the nightstand. One-handed, he managed to pop the lid and spread some on his fingers. 

Before Ray could even think about freaking out, Ryan was back in place, urging his hips up and legs apart. When he paused, hand just waiting against his leg, Ray squeezed his hand so hard he felt bones rubbing in his grip.

“Hurry the fuck up, you asshole,” Ray snapped, lifting his hips encouragingly. He knew Ryan had reason to check first, after the disaster the first time, but fuck it, the time for waiting was long passed. Ryan grinned and leaned down to kiss him, right as he rubbed his finger against Ray's hole. Ray grunted when it slid in, slowly and carefully. It didn't hurt, didn't feel any weirder than the time or two he'd tried it on himself, but it was Ryan, and the bastard knew what he was doing. Ray forced himself to relax, forcibly unclench against the tension in his lower half. Ryan kept squeezing his fingers and dropping kisses on him, his own way of keeping him distracted as he moved his finger in and out in the same tempting rhythm as his hips.

Ryan had to let go momentarily to grab more lube, pouring more on his hand and Ray's ass before going at him with another finger. The pinch of pain had Ray gasping, flexing against the tight fist of Ryan's fingers. Ryan stilled, waiting as Ray got used to the stretch. He rocked his hips from side to side, trying to get comfortable with the other guy's fingers in his ass. Oh yeah, it was really happening, and it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and orgasms like the porn had wanted him to believe. But he hadn't been expecting that anyway.

He hadn't expected Ryan to be so patient, so careful after Ray finally squeezed his fingers with the go-ahead. He'd never in a million years imagined the man behind the Vagabond would put in so much effort over something as stupid as making him happy, but there he was, watching Ray's face with so much focus for any hint of pain. And there wasn't any, not after he added more lube and kept going slow, so Ray had no idea why he kept staring at him like that.

Every thrust was more deliberate, deeper every time. Ray knew the feeling meant he was being prepped, and he also had a good idea what Ryan was trying to seek out. But he hadn't expected it to feel so _good,_ lightning up his spine as he hips jerked up out of his control. That smug bastard laughed, like that was the best reaction he could have got, while Ray hissed a breath between his teeth. He got it now.

Ryan kept going at it, adding a third finger as carefully as the previous ones. His face was pure concentration mixed with sweaty wonderment, and Ray tried to keep his mostly the same. But fuck it, the guy had three fingers up his ass, he didn't care what Ray's face looked like. His dick was hard and hot, twitching with need to be touched, so Ray freed his hand from where it had been clenching the sheets. Ryan smiled and nodded when he saw where Ray's hand was going, so he took that as an encouraging go-ahead. Ray choked off a swear when that one touch almost pushed him over. Fucking _hell_.

Like Ryan just knew he was close, he finally pulled his hand free and grabbed the box of condoms. Ray had to let go of his hand so he could fumble the box open and pull out a square of foil. The fucking stupid nerves shot right back up at the sight, and Ray turned away, blinking at the ceiling and stroking his dick. He couldn't bitch out now. He didn't want to.

He heard the sounds of Ryan getting ready, more lube slicking up his dick and Ray's ass, then his hands were gently gripping his hips, lifting them so he could slide a pillow underneath. They trailed down his thighs, encouraging them up and spread, so Ryan could get right back in his space. Ray could feel the heat from his body, the hard breaths brushing against his skin, even the tiniest bit of shaking when Ryan grabbed his hand again.

Ray turned his head back, hair rustling against the pillow, to look up at Ryan again. There was so much his face and eyes were obviously trying to say, but the raised eyebrow was clear. Ray nodded. Ryan nodded back before his attention focused lower.

There was pressure, like he knew there’d be. Ray gritted his teeth, eyes screwed shut, all his effort focused on not getting tensed up. Pressure, delightful stretching, and a slowly overwhelming feeling of fullness that had him arching his back. He cracked his eye open, and Ryan was right over him, staring down with a stunned look on his face. Fucking amazing.

After a few seconds Ray started to wonder if Ryan was going to start moving again or not. He hadn't moved since he slid in, not even to squeeze his hand. It would make sense if he was waiting to give Ray some time to get used to it, but he was fine. There wasn't even that much pain, not enough to put him off. Meeting his eyes, Ray squeezed his hand and deliberately flexed his hips up.

Ryan gasped, eyes flying wide open as he abruptly drove Ray's hips back down. Ray grinned triumphantly, but was almost totally distracted by the sharp feeling of pleasure. “Fuck,” he hissed, trying to work his hips up again. “Do that again. Keep going, you asshole.”

That did it. Ryan got his serious face on, adjusted so he could brace himself on the bed, and started thrusting in earnest. Ray couldn't even catch his breath to egg him on, the powerful thrusts knocking every thought from his head.

It was everything he'd thought about, and more, because it was fucking Ryan, and the real deal was so much better. Once he got the angle figured out, the steady growing pressure inside got better and better as Ryan pounded into him. Ray gave up trying to jerk himself off, couldn't do much of anything besides cling to Ryan's hand and take it. That was just damn fine for him, he had never felt better in his life, he could die a happy man, and he just might since Ryan took over dick duty, jerking him off him time with his thrusts. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck _ing_!” Ray tried really hard not to squeal or make any other stupid noises, but it was hard, there was do much, he was going to lose his fucking mind. Ryan was gasping, half-laughing, like he was losing it too. Ray tried to brace himself so he could thrust back, but gave up after a few good hits made his spine light the fuck up. It grew too much, too quickly, the feelings crested, growing stronger, then rushed over him like a jump off a building, a wild minute of nothing but sensation and pleasure Ray was lost to.

When he blinked his eyes open, feeling sweaty in all kinds of places, he caught the last seconds before Ryan came, thrusting long and hard before throwing his head back, eyes clenched closed and teeth gritting. On the column of his neck, right where the bone of his chin started, was one long thin scar he'd never noticed before. 

Ray tried to breathe past the lump in his throat that he didn't know the reason for. When Ryan came back to his senses, growing limp over him and finally tipping his head back down, Ray squeezed and tugged on his hand until he settled back down right on top of him. Ryan smiled beautifully before leaning down to kiss him. Ray couldn't do anything except kiss Ryan back, the exact same way. It's not like he could say anything about what just happened, or what it meant. They just didn't say shit like that.

But it was okay, because Ryan understood Ray the exact same way, he could tell. He knew. They both knew, and they didn't have to say it. That was okay.

~*~

Ray didn't know exactly what their current job was, but it was big. He was lurking in the rafters of the warehouse their employer's crew was prepping in. The sniper rifle was tucked up against his back, heavy and familiar right where it belonged. He also had a mini, which was better for shitty situations, and a handgun, and a knife or two for good measure. Why Ryan kept insisting on the knives, when his chances of seeing actual hand-to-hand were slim to none, he had no idea, but accepted it as some of his weirdness. 

It seemed to make Ryan happy, anyway. Or at least he looked a little less bitchy when Ray was well-armed.

The Vagabond was standing with the rest of the gang, silently prepping his weapons. He'd already stationed himself in the best position to run if he needed to. Ray could see from his angle that his eyes were on each and every other person, making sure they didn't do something stupid. He never looked up at Ray, but he had to know he was watching, too. 

Once they were all on their way, Ray's plan was to follow them and lurk further at the heist location. He had a bike waiting, both to follow them and to have a ready escape method in case shit hit the fan. Because there was no such thing as over-preparedness for them. They'd already gone over everything - not just the plan, but Ray's sneaking and lurking during other heists, which had gone off without a hitch every time. So he knew the ropes enough to almost not be nervous.

Except he wasn't stupid enough to be complacent. There was always that thread of worry, running down his spine to anchor in his stomach, reminding him to keep on his toes. Because he _could not fuck up_.

Listening with half an ear, Ray overhead the typical pre-heist hype talk, ragging on some guy who was late, what they were going to do with their take, the usual bravado stuff. It was so familiar, in a really miserable way. He almost missed working with a team, making jokes to ease the tension and making them laugh. Knowing that if things went tits up, there'd be someone to back him up. 

But fuck it, he had Ryan. The guy may not be great at spontaneous snarking, not when he had to drag his phone out every time he wanted to fire back, but no one had his back better.

The latecomer finally showed up and was promptly greeted with a shower of insults. He didn't look like much, not one of the big players or popular guys, almost unnoticeable as he fended off their words weakly. He slouched in on himself unhappily, prepping his weapons as the boss finally launched into the plan.

Even over the sound of the boss’s voice, Ray could hear the rattle of shells from the new guy. He was fumbling, even dropping the box on the floor. His eyes kept glancing around nervously- to the exits, to the table, then up to the Vagabond, over and over. The Vagabond was staring him down in return, but that was not the murder-glare he was giving him. This was watchful, suspicious. Calculating. 

The hairs on the back of Ray's neck stood up. For half a second, the Vagabond’s eyes flicked up to his, and he knew.

Something bad was about to happen.

Ray held his breath and carefully crept back along the rafters to where they met the wall. A nasty staircase lead up to an equally nasty overseeing office, which Ray had used to get up. He wasn't looking forward to navigating it again, but fuck it, he had to. Every instinct was telling him to get ready to run. Something was _not right_. 

Out of the corner of his eye, out the window, something moved. Ray froze, staring out at the darkness. That wasn't anything good, he just knew it. Something reflected the light from the window, something large and shiny and dangerous. 

There was no damn reason anyone would be driving around with their lights off, except one.

“Cops!” Ray's scream made everyone but the Vagabond jump, and only because he was already moving. “Cops! Fucking run!” 

It was instant confusion, especially when the Vagabond shot the guy who’d come in late, the rat bastard, right in the head with no hesitation. Ray scrambled down the stairs, one eye on his feet and the other on the Vagabond, who was already sprinting for the back where the bike was stashed. Ray wasn't expecting him to wait, because that was the plan.

The cops bursting in kept Ray from getting any more of the crew’s attention. Ray dove for the floor from three steps up when the building was flooded with shots from all directions. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs, but he scrambled up anyway, minigun already in hand. The Vagabond was waiting. They had to get out.

He booked it towards the exit, crouch-running to keep from getting caught by a stray bullet, weaving in and out of the crates and containers stored there. It was chaos, screams and gunshots deafening over the sound of his heart in his throat. The panic surged, but he shoved it down. He could freak out later.

It even worse when he got stumbled out the side door and saw the sea of cops lit up by the sudden flood of headlights. They even had a helicopter approaching with a spotlight, looming menacingly overhead. There was a fucking army of them. They'd been set up, and hard.

Ray had the mini up without thinking, shooting towards the cars and making the cops scramble for cover. He kept it up until the Vagabond roared up on the bike, stopping for only half a second so Ray could on. Then they were off again, so fast he almost fell off. One hand fisted in the Vagabond’s shirt, the other aimed behind him, holding the gun steady as he kept firing, even against the recoil making his arm jolt and ache, until they turned a corner and were out of sight.

The Vagabond zoomed away from the warehouse, aiming between other buildings to the back access road. From there they could get to the highway and ditch all the obvious criminal signs. The cops wouldn't be able to react in time, they were too slow with their bulky cars, couldn't keep up with the bike. The Vagabond had always escaped from this shit before ‒ Ray was just lucky he'd waited around to pick him up first.

For one breathless minute, it actually seemed like it worked. Out on the road, away from the dancing red and blue lights, the darkness closed around them, nothing but the sound of the engine. No one was following them. Ray breathed a sigh of relief, lowering the mini to his side. His arm ached at the movement, but he didn't put it away. Not yet.

Over the motorcycle’s engine, his ears picked up another noise. Rising like a giant monster in a movie, the chopper cleared the buildings they had just fled. The spotlight swung and focused on them, bathing the road in light. The panic lurched back up as Ray watched it approach. They were so fucked.

“Shit!” Ray shrieked involuntarily when the Vagabond abruptly accelerated. He almost fell off again, and scrambled to get a grip. Ray wrapped his free arm around the Vagabond’s middle, gun pressing into his stomach. Not comfortable in the long run, but that hardly mattered at the moment. With Ray secure, the Vagabond pushed the bike harder, accelerating up an off-ramp like a madman.

Ray grit his teeth to stop from screaming like a little bitch as cars roared past them. It was dark but traffic was crazy, the bright glare of headlights nearly blinding when they got closer. The Vagabond weaved in and around cars, leaving chaos and angry honking in his wake. Ray’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat, shaky limbs clinging to the other guy however he could. Every second felt like the one where they would overturn and smear their brains along the highway. 

Except it was the Vagabond driving. Anyone but him and Ray would question their chances at survival, but he drove like a fucking pro. Ray could feel his breath, rising and falling in his chest, still and even. He wasn't even panicking. If anyone could get them out of this shit, it would be him. 

Red and blue flashing lights were creeping up from behind and coming towards them from the front. Ray shifted and pulled the gun up so he could fire past the Vagabond, spraying the approaching cops with bullets. The Vagabond didn't even flinch, just guided the bike past the crashes and across the lanes so he was finally on the proper side of the road. Then he opened it up even more, pushing the bike to the highest speed. So fast there were tears streaming from Ray's eyes, getting caught on the edge of the mask. Yet somehow, he felt secure. Ryan could handle it. They could still get away.

It wasn't enough. The cops mobbed up behind them, keeping their distance so they were out of range of the mini. They knew they couldn't go on forever, the odds of them wiping out eventually were too great. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to pull over and split. Not with the chopper overhead, circling like a vulture, waiting for them to drop. 

Ray stared up at it, then down to the cops. A really fucking stupid idea popped into his head. 

Fuck it. Before he could chicken out, Ray plastered himself to the Vagabond’s back, stretching up so he could be heard over the noise. “I'm gonna try something,” he warned, shouting over the rush of air. God, what a fucking dumb idea, he was gonna fucking die but at least he had to try. 

Ray waited for the Vagabond’s nod before he acted. He jammed the mini between their bodies, twisting his arm and shoulder to grab at the sniper on his back. For one heart-stopping second he fumbled with the gun, trying desperately to not lose his grip or fall off. Fucking hell, if it worked he'd never get on another bike for as long as he fucking lived. 

He got it, even if he almost twisted his arm out of his socket to get the sling over his head. There was already a shell cambered, and Ray quickly pushed the safety off, careful not to accidentally jab the Vagabond with the end of the barrel. He jammed his feet painfully between the Vagabond's boots and the bike's footplate for extra security. One hand holding his gun by the trigger guard, Ray struggled into a standing position, bracing his knees against the other guy's body, fighting against the rush of air and tug of gravity. His free hand had a hold on the collar of the jacket, gripping as hard as he could. Ray stretched his arm up, extending it to full length, butt against his shoulder, so the barrel of the rifle followed the line of his arm towards the chopper.

Time slowed. Everything faded into the background ‒ the pain in his legs as he fought to hold steady, the thump from the tires on the road, the fear and desperation in his brain. Ray's finger settled softly on the trigger. The sirens and noise of the engines were nothing but a dull roar in his ears. His heart was pumping enough adrenaline to make everything else feel fuzzy, but his arm was steady. He didn't even use the scope, just squinted down the barrel at the chopper. It was trying to bank, trying to get away, but that just gave him the angle he needed.

Exhale.

Squeeze.

And sound returned with a bang, with the recoil from the rifle nearly snapping his arm off and unbalancing them. The Vagabond, miraculously, kept the bike steady, correcting against the sudden lurch to keep them going. Ray kept his grip on the gun and fell back in his seat so hard the air gasped out of his lungs. His free arm wrapped around the Vagabond's middle again, and he smashed his face into the broad leather-covered shoulder. The adrenaline washed over him like a breathless exhilarating wave, almost like passing out, but he shoved it down. He couldn't fall off now.

Overhead, the chopper making some very distressing noises. Ray looked up and watched it veering wildly out of control, careening in circles, spotlight waving like it was a rave. It crashed down onto the road behind them with a thundering slam and exploded into a giant fireball.

“ _Holy shit_!” Ray dimly realized he was screaming his head off. He couldn't help it. “Holy fucking shit did you see that _I just shot down a helicopter!_ ” Under his arm, he could feel the Vagabond laughing as the wreck grew smaller behind them.

With the lights overhead gone, the ones behind them faded while the cops tried to get around the flaming wreck. The Vagabond got them off the road and into a cookie-cutter neighborhood, jarringly quiet compared to the chaos they just left. Ray was a complete trembling mess of fading adrenaline when they finally pulled into some empty park. His brain was entirely blank except for the image of the chopper crashing to the ground. Fucking hell, he'd actually done it.

He didn't even have a second to get his head together before the Vagabond turned around, pushing his mask up. Ryan grabbed his face and started frantically kissing him, like the world was ending or like they'd just pulled off the most batshit escape ever. His hands were gripping tight enough to bruise, like he was making up for not being able to hold on during all of that fucking nonsense Ray had just managed, but he didn't care. Ray honestly needed it as he kissed back just as frantically. 

“I shot down a helicopter,” he gasped weakly when Ryan finally pulled away, letting his hands gentle to cradle his cheeks. In the sparse light, he could see the mad grin on Ryan's face before he went right back to kissing him. Everything felt electric and sharp, too real to be possible. They were both still alive. That's all that mattered.

They got off the bike eventually, stumbling on shaky legs away towards the direction of their hotel. They both ditched their masks, and Ryan shed the jacket. He turned it inside out and passed it to Ray so he could wrap the guns in it. Ryan pulled him close and leaned on him, and with their still-fumbling steps they just looked like a pair of drunk bros wandering home after a night at the bar. At least one cop drove right past them and didn't stop.

Ray honestly wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed once they got back, maybe fuck until neither could walk, but Ryan had other plans. He hurriedly shoved Ray and their stuff in the car, eyes vigilant as always. He stayed tense the entire dive out of the city, avoiding the cops and the roadblocks. Ray stayed slumped in the front seat, feeling his own kind of crashed, and watched sleepily as the muscles in Ryan's hands finally softened, until the intense nervous look faded from his face. When Ryan finally turned to look at him, triumphant grin spreading across his face, Ray returned it with one of his own.

~*~

The last thing Ray expected was to go fucking viral.

Someone had managed to grab the live footage from the helicopter and uploaded it for all the world to see. The video started with a shot of the sea of cops, before panning up to the two of them fleeing on the motorcycle. It captured every second of their crazy ride ‒ their wrong-way escape, Ray firing desperately to keep the cops back, the way they tilted in unison on corners, which Ray hadn't even realized they'd done until he saw it on screen, moving perfectly to compliment the other.

But the best part was That Shot: Ray standing on the bike, aiming directly at the camera, and the flash from his gun. Then the footage veered crazily as the chopper went down, dramatically cutting to black right before it hit the ground. For extra gratuity, the video then showed the shot again, but in slow motion and with accompanying dramatic noises, like it was something out of a big budget action movie. Except it was real, which was a thousand times cooler.

Watching it over and over, Ray was struck about how quick it all went down. At the time it'd felt like hours, but it had really only taken seconds. And bonus, he looked really fucking cool doing it. He and the Vagabond actually looked like movie stars, and the stupid shot he'd somehow managed to land went right along with that. It had been a one-in-a-million shot, and it already had millions of views.

Every news channel and website was showing the clip, usually with the reporters talking their usual shit about the brazenness of certain notorious criminals and state of crime in the country. The comments on the articles and the original clip were mostly along the lines of ‘the coolest shit ever witnessed’, which only a few decrying the crime and the fate of the cops. As if anyone really cared. Almost everyone thought it was awesome.

The messier parts of the internet had a different take. A lot of the crime blogs and certain corners of social media were _flipping out_ not just over his amazing shot, but over seeing the elusive Vagabond on camera. And not just seeing him make a great escape, but escaping with someone else. 

Just like Ray suspected, the idea of the Vagabond willingly teaming up with someone was enough to flip most of the criminal bloggers and their followers out. Everyone _knew_ the Vagabond didn't team up with _anyone_ , but there Ray was, sticking with him and being crucial to his getaway. He was disposable, he should have been ditched or left behind, or worse, kicked off mid-ride as a diversion. 

There was immediate speculation about who he was, which freaked Ray out in a whole new way. No one was identifying him as the sniper from his old crew, the one the Vagabond had fucked up but they were still digging too close. And it was only a matter of time before someone floated the theory that they were together, not just as partners but _together_ together. But thank God, that idea was quickly shot down, since the idea that the Vagabond had a heart, or even a slightly mushy side for some random sniper no one could figure out the identity of, was impossible.

Ryan didn't seem bothered. He snorted dismissively at the comments sections and kept his focus on the deep web, which was oddly quiet about the event. None of the serious heavy hitters were saying anything, even though they _had_ to have seen it, plastered across the interwebs as it was. And as a result, the usual stream of job offers had died. It was as if everyone was waiting to see what happened next.

What happened was, after a week with no jobs, they needed money. And since no one was hiring them, they made a job for themselves.

~*~

“So, you know I said this was a bad idea, and you, ya know, decided it wasn't?” Ray kept his eyes on his lap, not looking over at Ryan, who didn't even look like himself. It was because of the jacket, _that_ jacket that he only wore when he was doing stuff as the Vagabond, but he wasn't wearing his mask yet. Ray knew it was stupid to be weirded out just because his buddy wasn't in costume yet, but the in-between look wasn't working for either sides of himself.

He waited until Ryan nodded before he continued. “For the record, still think it's a bad idea.”

It _was_ a bad idea. A stupid idea. People like them didn't rob banks, not even the piddly little ones in small town, like their target was. Other people did, and they got a portion of the take because they were working off to the side. They didn't walk straight in and demand money ‒ no one fucking did that. That was the kind if shit that only went down in movies.

In real life, it just meant getting shot up by the cops.

Ryan rolled his eyes reassuringly. Cocky bastard. Like he was so damn sure it was going to work. 

To be fair, he did have a pretty good track record. Generally things did go his way, whether that was the original plan or not, and usually with a minimal amount of damage to himself.

Ray, on the other hand, was quietly freaking out. This was so stupid and brazen and they were gonna get shot, one hundred percent. He still wasn't sure how Ryan had talked him into it, because Ryan hadn't been wearing a shirt while he'd laid out the plan and he'd been distracted.

On second thought, maybe that's how he'd gotten Ray to agree.

Ryan shook his head, looking stupidly fond as he leaned over to mess up Ray's hair. Ray swatted at him half-heartedly. He knew the plan, Ryan had drilled it into him over and over like he did all his plans, until he knew every step and counter-step. Until he was almost as sure as Ryan was that things would be fine. Almost.

What the hell, Ray thought as he slid his mask into place and pulled the hood up. It wasn't as if it was the dumbest shit he'd ever gotten up to. Ryan pulled his hair up and his own mask on, covering his pretty face. Ray tucked a few rogue strands out of the way for him, letting his hand linger for a second. Then they were out of the car, across the street, and entering the bank before anyone even registered what they had seen.

Ray shoved through the door, already talking as they both stepped into the lobby. “Hey if everyone could just get on the floor that’d be great.” His words were accompanied by a shot into the air by the Vagabond, and everyone dropped like rocks, fast enough that it was almost funny. Fuck it, it was funny, and Ray didn't even bother to hide his grin as they got to work.

The Vagabond immediately headed towards the back offices, towards the banker-looking people staring at him in shock and fear. Ray stepped over to the tills, throwing a backpack towards the scared-looking lady who was closest. 

“Come on, you know the drill,” Ray said lazily, even while his eyes were moving frantically around the room. No one looked like they were going to try any stupid heroics, but you could never be sure. She started filling the bag, eyes flicking from him over to where the Vagabond had gone. When she suddenly looked over his other shoulder, he moved without even thinking, twisting and firing at the security guard who had tried to sneak up on him.

“Motherfucker,” Ray snapped at the dead body. Several women shrieked, but no one else moved. Ray was sure there were more, and just as he thought that he heard rapid shots coming from where the Vagabond had wandered off. Ray held his breath, gun ready, but no one came running out afterwards, so it was safe to assume the Vagabond got them. He hoped.

Ray turned back to the lady behind the till, who had nicely filled the backpack with bills. “Did you call the police yet?” he asked casually. He barely felt nervous, or at least he wasn't letting himself focus on that. He just had to keep his brain on task.

The teller bit her lip, trembling, obviously not wanting to answer. “I'm not mad or anything, it's fine if you did.” Ray pulled the bag over the counter, moving to the next till. “But I can't say it's gonna go great for them,” he said over his. This teller looked like his grandma, and she wordlessly opened her drawer for the money. Not even phased. Just another day at work for her.

Another series of gunshots rang out, and the Vagabond stepped out from the cubical area. Ray turned his head to catch his nod, saying he was ready to go. The grandma tossed the bag at his head, barely-concealed boredom on her face. Ray grinned at her before following the Vagabond towards the back. They walked quickly, hearing sirens coming closer, but they didn't break into a run until they were out the back. Then they hoofed it, side by side, to a generic plumbing company van parked alongside the building. The one the Vagabond _happened_ to have the keys for.

Ryan ditched his mask and jacket at Ray shed his hoodie. They were wearing matching khaki button downs underneath, which almost looked like uniforms. Looking bored as could be, Ryan eased them away, past the crowds of onlookers and away from the approaching police cars. All according to plan.

Ray kept his face blankly neutral until they were on the highway away from town. Finally, trying to keep the grin out of his voice, he spoke. “You are the luckiest son of a bitch I've ever met.”

Ryan had the nerve to look proud.

~*~

Ray was midway through a bout on a newly released fighting game when Ryan nudged him to get his attention. They were sprawled out together on the motel bed, half on top of each other because that's what was comfortable. Ray paused his game and looked over at the screen angled in his direction, showing the page of the anonymous chatroom Ryan was on. A long line of back and forth messages ended with a question Ray squinted to read.

 **How much for you to bring the sniper?**

Ray raised an eyebrow. Finally, things were picking up again. And bonus, they wanted him too. “What's the job?” he asked. Ryan scrolled back up the conversation to the first message. Ray read through it quickly, putting it all together. Some newbie crew looking for help getting their friend back from another gang that nabbed him. Usual back-and-forth turf war stuff.

But not just any gang, oh no. Just one of the biggest crime families on the East Coast. Obviously the Vagabond’s annihilation of Ray's old gang had left an impression on their potential employers, or they weren't stupid and knew they'd need his particular services for the job.

“You're really thinking of taking this?” Ray questioned, tilting his head to look up at Ryan's face. Ryan nodded, face unreadable, opening a second tab to type a response. 

**Pay’s good, and we don't have any other offers**

“This should be fun,” Ray muttered, feeling the flare of nervous excitement in his chest. “So what do you think? What am I worth?”

**Three burritos and a Red Bull**

“You're a fucking asshole,” Ray shot back while Ryan wheezed with laughter. He closed their page and replied to their potential employer while Ray watched over his shoulder. 

**He's the same rate as me**

Well then. Ray felt a little touch of pride that Ryan thought that much of his work. He knew what the other guy's rates were. 

They watched and waited until the three dots indicated their reply was coming. **That's set. Bring him and a burner car to this location.** A map link followed.

“Fuck me, they must really be desperate,” Ray observed while Ryan investigated the location. The plan was already set, according to the boss, all they had to do was bring the guns and their pretty masked-up faces. The fact that they were already so prepped before even hiring them was a little suspicious, but not enough to not take the job.

They both agreed it'd be better to get to the meeting place first, even if the meet-up was several hours away. Cheers to paranoia. Their meeting place was a space between abandoned warehouses, and once they arrived the carefully checked for booby traps or anything that indicated the other crew was up to something. It was clean ‒ at least of anything fishy-looking. The actual cleanliness of the place left much to be desired.

With a few hours to spare and the area secure, they fooled around in the backseat of the burner car for a bit. It was risky, but it was worth the look on Ryan's face while Ray jerked him off, nipping at his neck and chest. It was a thrill, not just because it was semi-public but because he _could_. Because he wanted to, because Ryan trusted him and there was no more needing to hide his feelings. It just felt amazing.

When their employer finally rolled up, they were both lounging on the hood of the burner, armed up and ready with a respectful distance between them. Ray eyed their approach and wished he was watching from a higher standpoint. Fuck, and he'd probably have to do all the talking too, again, which was probably why the Vagabond didn't argue about his inclusion. Asshole.

The guy who stepped out first had to be the boss, since he had the power to pull off such an impressive mustache and tattoos. A woman and a younger guy followed him out, and they awkwardly huddled around their car while ‘stache-man approached. There was an uneasy smile on his face, eyes flickering from Ray to the Vagabond, like he was already expecting shit from them. But that wouldn't happen unless he stopped being a squirrely shit, so he really wasn't helping his own case.

The Vagabond tilted his head to the side, staring at the group with narrowed eyes. Ray caught what he was thinking a second later and did his own scan of the group again. Well, shit. It seemed they had left a certain crucial detail out.

“Is this fucking it?” he snapped, glaring angrily at the group. Boss guy jumped and stared at him in shock, obviously surprised that Ray at least was vocal. 

He recovered fast enough to snap back. “Is _what_ fucking it?” His voice was oddly reedy for a guy like him, but whatever, that wasn't what Ray had a problem with.

“Your people. Tell me there's more coming.” Ray nodded towards the too-few crew he'd brought with. “Besides those two.”

“Uh…” the boss looked back at his crew, not bothering to hide the sudden nervous look on his face. “Yeah, no, we're kinda it.”

Ray rolled his eyes over to the Vagabond, seeing his frustration mirrored there. “You forgot to mention there’s only fucking three of you,” he snapped angrily. “How’re we supposed to take out a fucking mob with five people?”

“Well, that's what we hired you for!” Stache-guy answered with a return gesture in their direction. Well, really at the Vagabond. “He's supposed to be good at this shit.” Ray snorted dubiously. The Vagabond’s fucking reputation was starting to be more of a pain in the ass than it was worth.

The boss’s shoulders abruptly slumped, a look of desperation on his face as he looked between them. “Look, we don't got a lot of choices here. We're just starting out and they've got one of our guys, he used to be one of their guys but then he joined us and they got pissed and stole him back. They're major shitheads, they've gotta be doin shit to him already and we-” He gulped for breath, the worry clear on his face. “That's why we gotta get him back.”

“Fucking tragic,” Ray muttered to himself, but not loudly. The whole thing felt very fucking familiar. The Vagabond had his head tilted down, like he was thinking it over, but Ray already knew what his decision would be. When Ray saw the glance from under the mask, he nodded.

The Vagabond nodded in return and got off the hood. Ray followed, giving the boss an icy look. “We're in, but there better not be any other surprises. We don't like those.” The boss grinned nervously and gestured the rest of his crew over. They looked worried too, or maybe it was about their missing crewmate. Or intimidated by them‒ well, really, just the Vagabond. There was nothing intimidating about Ray.

“Here's the plan,” the boss started dramatically, once they had circled up. “We're gonna be sneaky as long as we can, but when shit hits the fan we gotta be ready.” He seemed a lot more confident giving orders, and his crew seemed relieved that he had a plan. “Me and Jack‒” he pointed at the woman, who looked a lot tougher than he did, “ ‒are gonna head inside with the Vagabond through the front. Gav‒” this was directed at the younger man, “-you'll go in from the side, try to find Michael. You,” he pointed at Ray, “I want you outside guarding the exits so we have a clear escape route. Uh…” he hesitated uncertainly, eyes flicking from Ray to the Vagabond. “You got a name, or like a nickname or something?”

“Brownman,” Ray answered automatically, and mentally winced. Well shit, that wasn't what he was supposed to say. Hopefully they would have no idea who he was based on his old gang's nickname. Just because this crew seemed to be on first-name basis didn't mean he had to be.

The boss seemed satisfied with that, but the man he called Gav piped up.

“I thought you were called ‘the Ghost’ or something.” Ray covered his surprise at the unexpected English accent with a grimace at that stupid fucking name.

“That's just what the internet started calling me. It's Brownman.” He tried to sound firm, not pissed off, but it didn't shake the stupid grin off the Brit’s face.

“Aww, but I liked the Ghost. I thought it was cute!”

 _Cute?_ “Thanks?” Ray squeaked out, his voice going up with a question at the end. And maybe to copy the high-pitched Brit, who looked like his day had just been fucking made by him playing along. Probably just happy he wasn't a stoic asshole like the Vagabond.

Or like the Vagabond was _supposed_ to be. Ray knew that noise that snuck out from under the mask. That was his ‘trying-not-to-laugh’ noise. Ray shot him an outraged look. Through the eye-holes, he could definitely see that he was grinning.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Ray snapped. Like he was mad, but he wasn't really. That's just how he was supposed to act, how he used to joke around with a crew before a job. Except this wasn't his crew, and he probably wasn't supposed to swear at the most dangerous guy in the criminal world or anything. He was aware, like the flipping of a switch, how the atmosphere went from uneasy but relaxed to fully on edge. Because no one swore at the Vagabond and lived. 

Except Ray, obviously, because he could tell the Vagabond had the ‘annoyed-yet-fond’ look on his face under the mask. But the other guys didn't know that, and there were staring at them in fear. Probably waiting for the Vagabond to pull a knife and go for Ray's jugular. 

But of course that didn't happen, and Ray kept staring at the boss expectantly. After a moment of shocked silence, the boss shakily went back to explaining the plan. His second-in-command, the lady he called Jack, was still eyeing them up something fierce. Ray ignored her while the boss talked on, laying out the details. There were backup plans, in case shit got really bad, but that wasn't really important to them. If shit did go down, he and Ryan’d be on their own to get out, no matter what the plan was.

“You two okay following us there, or...?” the boss, or Geoff as the younger guy had called him, asked the two of them, still looking stupidly nervous. For some reason the idea of carpooling with the Vagabond didn't seem to thrill him. 

Ray shrugged. “Why wouldn't we, unless you try and drive us off a cliff or something?” His voice had just the right amount of deadpan in it, he was pleased to hear, instead of sounding like a bundle of nerves like he really was. This was some serious shit, and there was a part of him (a big-ass part) that was seriously flipping out. But the Vagabond was solid at his back and the crew was looking so expectant that he couldn't bitch out.

Geoff grinned weakly. “Yeah, no, that's, uh, not the plan.” It was almost comical, how nervous he was. Or maybe it was worry for his guy. It was so plainly obvious from all three that they desperately wanted him back, and were willing to do anything to get him. Including teaming up with a psycho like the Vagabond. 

Ray drove, as the Vagabond checked and rechecked their weapons. Ray knew that was his assurance check, his own way of calming his mind by knowing that they were as prepared as they could be. When they parked at the staging point, a few buildings away and hidden from the target. Ray did the same, checking the sniper's clip and adding magazines for the mini in his pockets. The crew was doing the same under the unnerving watch of the Vagabond. 

To finish it off, the Vagabond did his usual handing-off-the-knife thing in full view of the crew, and Ray took it without his usual eye roll. He knew better than to ask.

When they were done, Ray caught the boss’s eye and nodded. As a group they slipped silently into the shadows, sneaking towards the compound where, according to the crew's intel, the mob was holding their buddy. Ray's legs were trembling with nerves, so much he almost tripped, but he worked to keep his steps and breaths even. Just another job. No big deal. Just another job where he's possibly die or worse, fuck up and have something happen to the Vagabond. Just his worst nightmare. 

He split from the group first, sneaking off to a rusted water tower that would give him enough height to be useful. There was no dramatic or mushy moment between him and the Vagabond, just the silent expectation that they would both be coming back alive. Ray bobbed and weaved through the bored security guards and the floodlights to a hiding spot behind a car. They'd have to get taken out first, once the shitshow started, so he could get in place. All part of the plan.

Heart pounding, Ray moved his mask enough to put the earpiece they gave him in place. He could hear the others talking quietly ‒ surprisingly, the Vagabond was totally silent. Ray grinned at his own stupid joke and crouched in readiness, mini already in position to take out the first guard. 

“Ready when you guys are,” he breathed into the com.

It took _so fucking long,_ crouching in place on trembling legs, waiting for the go-ahead, mouthing swears every time a guard’s circuit took him close to his hiding spot. He hated the wait, it was the worst part of every heist, fuck every single piece of shit in sight and every long, aching second he waited.

“Go!” Geoff's voice shouted, and was immediately followed by the sounds of gunfire from the front of the building. When Ray's foolish guards turned in that direction, he popped up and mowed them down. Like it was nothing. 

Ray sprinted to the ladder, lungs tight in his chest, praying he hadn't missed anyone. In seconds he scrambled up the ladder and got onto the thin walkway ringing the tank. Just being up high, with the rusted metal against his back, made him feel better. The mini was switched for his good old sniper, and that sweet calm washed over him. He got to work breaking the floodlights, adding more helpful shadows for Gav's hopeful escape route. When they were done he got to work on the windows, occasionally pausing to take out anyone who ran into view. 

Over the comms he could hear the frantic voices of the crew moving in, swearing with every other breath. Ray grinned when Geoff took the time to narrate what the Vagabond was doing, since he obviously couldn't. It almost sounded like the plan was going well, the mob taken totally by surprise. Ray could hear the screaming which meant the Vagabond had been spotted, and they knew what outcome that would bring. Ray focused on covering his side of the building, shooting down an approaching car with a load of assistance. There was no thinking, no guilt, just the knowledge that they had to do the job and do it right. Or else they'd all be dead.

“I got him!” Gav’s voice suddenly squawked, sounding triumphant. “I'm gettin’ him out the side, someone cover me!” 

“I got you,” Ray assured him, swinging his gun around to the far side of the building. Some idiot ran around the corner and got dropped. Ray waited, peering through the scope, bracing the barrel against the railing. He could hear Gav breathlessly encouraging his buddy on over the comm, like he was totally supporting the new guy. Gav finally stumbled into view, with the other guy draped over his shoulder. After a glance up at the water tower, at Ray's hiding spot, he started booking it awkwardly towards the shadows, breathing loud in Ray's ears.

“Are they clear yet?” Geoff asked frantically, voice tinged with worry.

“Nearly,” Ray answered, sights still glued on the corner Gav had just left. He was certain they were being followed, and he was right. A group of guys ran around the corner, only to scatter when Ray shot the leader in the head. Reloading quickly, he got the second guy in the shoulder while the third ducked back inside. “There's some guy after them, watch the front if he tries to get out there.”

“Got it, looks like the Vagabond is headed that way.” Geoff sounded out of breath, which wasn't surprising given all the running around they were doing. “Once he finishes him off, we're outta here.”

“What?!” Ray snapped, half-hearing the disgruntled noise the Vagabond made. “Job’s not done ‘til everyone's dead. You don't half-ass this shit!”

“We got the boss and the big guys.” Jack cut in. “We don't have to‒”

“Yes you fucking do!” Ray argued back. Fucking hell, didn't they get it? “If they live they'll keep coming after you. It's all or fucking nothing, don't bitch out now.” It was cold. If he were anyone else he'd be just as hesitant. But he knew better, and he could feel the Vagabond's thoughts like his own, _knowing_ they had to finish the job or else it would never end. 

It was quiet, only the steady sounds of bullets coming from the front of the building. “Look,” Ray said grimly, switching to the mini to start doing some serious damage, “fuck off if you want to, that's fine.” Sarcasm dripped bitterly from his words. “We’ll just stay and clean up the mess you dragged us into, you know, when you hired us, that's totally cool. Not gonna be bitter about that or anything, not gonna be holding a grudge about that.”

“Fuck.” Geoff sounded so defeated. “You heard him. Finish the job.” There was some grumbling from Jack, and a squashed down protest from Gav, but more of the gunfire resumed. Ray breathed a sigh of relief and got back to work.

It ended the way they usually did ‒ the Vagabond was nothing if not thorough. Ray only climbed down from his perch once the entire building was up in flames, the heat washing over his face. The Vagabond was the last to leave, circling the building while Geoff and Jack ran off to check on their buddy. Ray waited in the shadows until the Vagabond was finished making sure the job was done, until he finally walked over to him. Bathed by the red light of the fire, Ray smiled at him, feeling a shaky rush of relief at seeing him unhurt. He stunk like smoke and had a few splatters of blood, but there had to be that soft smile under the mask, and he was quick to give Ray's hand a squeeze in the shadows. Another successful job done.

They walked together to where they had left the cars. Ray half-expected the crew to already be gone, given how ready they'd been to split, but were still there. Geoff walked up to meet them, relief covering him like a blanket, even if his knuckles were still bloody. Behind him, Ray could see the rest of his team moving around in their car, attending to the guy they rescued. It looked like he'd live, at least.

“Gotta admit, we wouldn’t’ve pulled that off without ya.” Geoff didn't sound like he wanted to admit it, but at least he had the decency to look grateful. “Our guy's a little messed up, but he'll live.” He took a deep breath, jamming his hands in his pockets. “We really owe you guys. If you're ever on the West Coast, be sure hit us up for some jobs.”

“Yeah, we'll think about it,” Ray told him. Honestly, he'd rather not have to deal with them ever again, nice paycheck or not. They just weren't worth it.

“Hey!” An angry shout and a car door slamming drew their attention to the other crew's car. Their rescued crew member, one eye swollen and lip still bloody, staggered towards them, angry finger pointed at the Vagabond and Ray. His face was twisted in rage.

“How much, huh? How fucking much did they fucking pay you to _kill my fucking family_?”

A lot of things happened quickly. Geoff went to grab the angry shouty guy but missed. Angry shorty guy grabbed the front Ray's hoodie and yanked him close, looking like he was ready to kill, or at least punch his face in. At the same time, the Vagabond stepped forward. One arm went around Ray's waist and pulled him back as much as he could. The other hand had a knife, and found itself right up against the other guy's jugular.

Ray didn't move. He didn't even blink, even though he was eye-to-eye and way too close to the other guy. He wasn't blinking either, angrily glaring down at Ray, not even noticing the knife and the threat. At the periphery, Ray could see Geoff's other crew members had moved in to try and intervene, but they'd frozen in place when the Vagabond had pulled the knife.

Everything was very still. Around his middle, Ray could feel the Vagabond’s arm tighten. There was something familiar about it, and the Jersey accent of the rescued crew member. Something finally clicked in Ray's head.

“Did you know your family tried to buy the Vagabond to get you first?” Ray's voice was quiet and even, but everyone heard him. The other guy flinched, but his hold didn't loosen. Ray knew he was right, it was the other side of the offer they'd rejected months ago, the first time he'd helped the Vagabond with a job. 

He leaned in, keeping them close, unflinching. Something was growing tight in his chest, making it hard to breathe, but he pushed it down. “He didn't take the job. We don't even know how much they were gonna offer.” Ray let his anger bleed into his voice. The arm around his middle suddenly wasn't comforting, it was holding him back. “Whoever we talked to was such a squirrely piece of shit, we figured something was up. And we were right, they were planning to screw him over the whole time. Weren't they?” 

“You...you don't fucking know shit,” the angry guy snapped, but there was no fire in it. Like he'd finally realized how deep this shit went and how close he was to certain death. Ray could feel the heat of the Vagabond’s glare over his shoulder, even as the pressure around his middle increased, trying to haul him back. 

“If we’d took that job, and your family had tried that shit on the Vagabond, they'd be dead anyway. You know he wouldn't have let them live after turning on him.” Ray spoke with a certainty he could feel in his bones. “You too. And your crew? He probably would have killed them first, to get to you.” From the corner of his eye he could see Geoff flinch at the absolute certainty in his voice.

“But instead, here we are, and we got you out. _Your crew_ hired us to get you, and you should be on your damn knees thanking them.” Something hot was lodged in his throat, but Ray forced himself to keep going. He had to get his point through that fat Jersey head.

A very tired and scared look crossed the other man's face. The angry facade was cracking, his fists loosening on Ray's hoodie. Ray brought his hands up, knocking the knife away in the process, and wrapped his hands around the other guy's wrists, keeping him in place.

“Look, you got screwed in the family department. It happens. But your fucking crew came for you. They did _all this shit_ to get. you. back. Fuck, dude, they're still here, even though your stupid ass almost got them killed with this bullshit.”

“Shut up!” There was more force to his voice this time, but Ray didn't flinch. “You shut the fuck up.”

“ _That's_ how a crew’s supposed to act ‒ they're supposed to have your fucking back. They're supposed to get your ass out of shit, no matter what. Who gives a fuck about your family‒ you have a crew who went through hell for you. Do you know how fucking lucky you are to have that?” 

His lungs felt too tight, he couldn't focus on his words anymore. The Vagabond’s hands were suddenly on his, pulling him back, away from the crew. As soon as there was distance between them, Gav ran in and grabbed the rescued guy in a hug. The boss and the lady closed in as well, eyes on Ray and the Vagabond.

They were waiting for retribution. They were waiting for the Vagabond to snap and take them out, but they were still sticking together. Because they were a crew. Ray could feel the tension in the Vagabond’s body, because he was holding him way too close for them not to notice. Everything had gone so wrong, they should be taken out, they shouldn't be allowed to go off and say anything about what had just happened. But Ray didn't want that. He just wanted to stop.

“Let's just go,” Ray said softly. He felt like he was going to be sick. “Please?”

It was a fucking miracle the Vagabond didn't snap anyway, regardless of what he asked. Ray knew he wanted to, every instinct was probably screaming to fuck them right up. But he didn't. He just wrapped his arm around Ray's shoulder even tighter, keeping them close. With one last glare at the crew, he steered him over to their shitty car and away from them.

The drive back to the motel was long, with Ryan doing all his usual tricks to make sure they weren't followed. Ray was quiet the whole time, like the emptiness in his chest, huddled in his hoodie. It wasn't until much later, when he was wrapped in blankets and misery, with the Vagabond’s arms firmly around him, that he finally said what had been stuck in his head, over and over.

“Well, fuck.”

~*~

Ryan was all sorts of fucked up. 

For all of Ray’s issues, he generally didn’t get sick. A minor cold once a year, that was basically it, and he could tough it out and keep functioning. But Ryan’s useless Southern ass apparently took suffering to a whole new level when he was sick.

“At least you can’t make your throat hurt worse since, ya know, you’re not talking with it,” Ray teased gently, brushing the loose long strands away from Ryan’s face. Glassy blue eyes tried to glare at him, but the effect was really ruined when he sniffed mightily with a disgusting sound. Ray grinned at his misery.

“So, do I dare try to make you some chicken soup or‒” Ryan made a face, and Ray didn't blame him. He switched tracks. “Pharmacy run, make you a pillow fort, what do you want from me?”

Ryan shut his eyes and burrowed his head further into Ray's side. The message was clear‒ just shut up and be a good pillow. Ray sighed, but he obliged. He kept playing with Ryan's hair, since that didn't seem to increase his misery, but he didn't feel right not having anything to do to make him feel better. He was sure if the situation was reversed Ryan would be all over it with ways to make him feel better, but he had nothing.

For lack of a better option, Ray grabbed the laptop that Ryan had used briefly before coming down with the sickness and giving up on life. Ryan obligingly offered his thumb to bypass the security feature, and Ray clicked through the tabs already open, trying to find the one with the videos. He was thinking something cheesy and stupid, simple-brain fare so he wouldn't be so focused on the crap. He knew how that could help.

He stopped when one tab caught his eye. A bunch of pictures and diagrams of people making various shapes with their hands, shoddy gifs with the motions. Something clicked in his head, something he hadn't even thought of before.

“Do you actually _know_ sign language?” he asked, despite himself. Ryan cracked a sleepy eye to glance at the screen, before nodding against Ray's side. One hand reached up, fumbling for a second before slapping at the keys. Ray quickly switched to a note doc for him as he painstakingly typed his message.

**learned sfter i stropprf talkinh**

That made sense. “Why don't you use it more?” Ray asked, before the answer occurred to him. “Typing’s faster, right?” Despite the terrible tapping he'd just witnessed, Ryan was really quick to get his point across on his phone or laptop. Ray barely even noticed the wait anymore.

The hand reached back up. **good for acting normal**

“Oh, that's smart,” Ray had to admit. Not a lot of people had to know sign language, so Ryan could use their ignorance for his gain, while still looking like he made an effort to get his point across. It went right along with his sense of being prepared for anything, in case he didn't have his phone or anything to write on. Dude had his shit down.

Ray stared at the page, thinking. “Would it be a good idea for me to learn? In case we go undercover somewhere together, have to act like civilians or somethin?” He wasn't sure what Ryan would make of the suggestion, but the firm head nod and a grin against his side seemed to indicate that he liked that idea. Ray liked it too, since it would give him another thing to share with Ryan, something else to fall back on.

“You're gonna have to teach me _all_ the swear words,” Ray suggested, and laughed when Ryan immediately gave a one-finger demonstration of the most obvious one.

~*~

Nerves threatened to strangle him, but Ray's voice was firm when he read the Vagabond’s message out loud. “He says he wants to be at the front of the pack.” His eyes flicked up from the phone screen, eyeballing the gang boss standing with his arms crossed in front of him. “He's got a point, you know. It's stupid to keep him pushed to the back. Isn't that what you hired him for?”

The crew boss was glaring at him like a motherfucker, but it was nowhere near as threatening as the Vagabond’s. It also helped having said man at his back, glaring like a _better_ motherfucker. It helped Ray to keep thinking like a snarky asshole, because that's how he was supposed to act. Not quietly flipping out over how out-of-his-depth he was.

Finally, the boss sighed. “Look, if those other fucks don't show up, you'll have to be on point anyway. But if they do show, we're sticking to the plan and you're sticking with us.” He turned and stomped away, like that made it final.

Ray tilted his head back, catching the Vagabond’s eye just to see the matching unimpressed look. That's what they got for working with someone from the city where all the actors and movie-people thought they were safe. All that drama had to to rub off on the people who lived there.

Ever since the near-disastrous mob-family fiasco, the jobs had come rolling back in from all over. Enough word had gotten out about Ray's skills that most gangs were considering them a duo and should be hired together. Which was great, because that meant Ray was being paid to watch his buddy's back. It didn't matter what the other guys were really paying him to do ‒ their partnership always came first.

He could tell, though, that most of the crews that hired them were really just trying to get a handle on what Ray was like, and what was so fucking special about him. He could feel their looks, every time he snarked at the Vagabond and read off his texts for him, trying to figure him out, waiting for what should be the inevitable moment where the Vagabond snapped and slit his throat.

All the scrutiny was enough to make Ray want to flip out. That was the problem with teaming up with a guy who was so notorious and public ‒ everyone seemed to think their lives were something they were obligated to view. When really it was none of their damn business.

And just his fucking luck, his usual indifference and lack of caring about shit seemed to have gone away. Probably because of the pills. At least he was getting better again about faking it. 

A commotion made his head jerk up from where he'd been idly sorting ammo. The late crew had showed, finally. Their local boss started sassing them, but Ray could tell he was actually happy to see them. Like they were some big happy family having a reunion.

Beside him, the Vagabond stiffened. Ray took another look at the new group and swallowed hard. Well, shit. Not such a happy reunion. 

Geoff's ‘stache was even more impressive than they'd last seen it. He greeted the other boss with a easy smile on his face, but it dropped at the sight of Ray and the Vagabond, and he froze in his tracks.

“Oh fuck.”

His statement got the attention of the rest of his crew, who also just seemed to realize they were there. Jack, still wearing the awful Hawaiian shirt, moved in front of the younger boys protectively ‒ Gav at least looked delighted to see them, while the one Ray had tangled with looked rightfully pissed. At least his black eye had healed.

It was too quiet for a long strangled second, tension threatening to blow. Ray could feel the Vagabond tensing beside him, ready for a fight. But Ray really wasn't in the mood to deal with that shit.

“‘Sup?” he asked, waving awkwardly at the newcomers, like they were fucking suburban neighbors greeting over a fence.

Geoff grinned, even though it looked like he was about to be sick. “Hey,” he said shakily. “Didn't know you two would be here.”

“You kidding me, Geoff?” The other boss didn't look at all bothered by the tension. “I told you I was hiring everyone I could get. You said they were good when you worked with them before, so why not get them?” He finally seemed to notice the way each group was eyeing each other, and the smile dropped. “Uh, it's still good, right?” he asked worriedly.

Ray spoke before the Vagabond could react. “I ain't got a problem if they don't.”

Every pair of eyes flicked uneasily to the Vagabond. “What about him?” Jack asked with a nod. Her voice was light, but she still looked suspicious.

Ray shook his head. “He's got a problem with everyone. You're not special.” That got him a painful elbow in the ribs and he grinned, the mood broken. “See? You're fine. He's got way more problems with me anyway.”

That seemed to relax everyone, though the redhead ‒ Ray didn't remember his name ‒ really didn't look happy. Ray could hardly blame him. He avoided eye contact and hoped they wouldn't have a repeat of what happened before. Fucking shit, it was so awkward, but he couldn't exactly find a hole and hide like he wanted to. They had a job to do.

Plans were made and laid out. Everyone else from the other crews were mixed together for maximum effectiveness, except for Ray and Ryan. They were kept together, tagging along with the bosses, for “protection”. From the way the Vagabond's head tilted, Ray was pretty sure there was that considering calculating look on his face. He _knew_ the real reason they were sticking with the bosses was because it was safer than splitting them up. Better to keep the two wild cards near the guys giving the orders. Neither Geoff nor Jack looked happy about that, but there wasn't much that they could do about it.

As everyone split to go their separate ways, the Vagabond nudged his arm and handed his phone over.

**You need to act like more of an asshole to me. Make them think we don't like each other**

“Shouldn't be too hard,” Ray joked, just low enough that the bosses could hear. On the inside, his stomach clenched. The Vagabond was right, they had to kill any idea that they were _together_ together, keep anyone from thinking Ray was an obvious weakness to get to the Vagabond, or that he'd gone soft because of him. Ray was pretty sure he'd fucked that up already, with his whole freakout after their last job with Geoff, so he had some dickish making up to do.

Ray stayed on his phone for most of the ride to their vantage point, the picture of bored indifferent compared to the Vagabond next to him, who was idly playing with a knife. Because of course he was. Their boss and Geoff kept sending them nervous looks in the rearview mirror, which they both ignored. So fucking professional. 

Their waiting point ended up being up a fucking mountain. Not like they were trying to be dramatic or anything. It was pretty, in a bare rock kind of way, and Ray appreciated all the open sight lines available for sniping. They had a lovely view of the entire valley below, so the bosses could watch the unfolding action. There was just one issue.

“So, I can't help but notice our lack of escape route,” Ray pointed out. The bosses looked at each other, then around the peak, like they had only _just_ noticed the only safe way down was going to be swarming with cops if everything didn't go to plan. 

“Oh, no, Jack's gonna pick us up in the chopper when her bit’s done,” Geoff answered with an uneasy grin. 

“Oh good. I have a great track record with those,” Ray deadpanned. The other boss chuckled and Geoff's grin looked a little more natural. “What's the plan if she doesn't show up though? Run down the mountain?”

“Yeah, Gav said we should park some bikes or something up here just in case.” That sounded like fun, but Geoff didn't look like he liked the idea. “But it'll be fine. Jack'll get here, don't worry about it.”

Out of the corner of his eye Ray saw the Vagabond shift uneasily. Of course he didn't like the lack of contingency plans. And Ray didn't like the idea of hauling ass down a mountain. He turned back to the lookout point, staring at the hazy view before leaning dangerously over the wooden guard rail, staring down the cliff below.

“I mean, worst-case scenario, if we have to go over the edge someone needs to put some cushions down there for the Vagabond. Wouldn't want him to hurt his pretty face. He'd have to wear a mask or something.” Ray's tone was too mocking, too dangerous, that it had to get a reaction.

A knife thudded onto the wood, inches from his arm. A very deliberate miss, not a very deliberate threat it was meant to seem to outsiders, but that was the point. Ray craned his neck around, face deadpan and unimpressed, to meet the Vagabond's eyes through the mask. They were glaring, but still winked at him. He got the joke. On the periphery, he could see the bosses poised and tense, waiting for blood.

Ray returned the glare. “Got a fucking problem?” he snapped. The Vagabond jerked the knife free, handling it a little too loose and easy near his face. Instead of fear, a stupid tingle shot down Ray's spine. _Maybe later,_ he told himself. Instead of backing off like any same person would, Ray straightened and faced him, arms crossed, trying to show how unintimidated he was. 

“Blah blah, cower in fear, please spare me, whatever,” Ray tried to inject utter boredom into his voice, looking away like he was the most arrogant asshole he could be. But really, he looked away to keep from cracking up. He couldn't help it, it was too fun.

One with last threatening glare, and the Vagabond stomped off, frustration radiating from his body like he was actually pissed at him. Ray made a face at his back and turned to the bosses with an exaggerated eye roll. He gave them a snarky grin, as they stared at him like he had just lost his damn mind.

“Dude,” the other boss said, terrified wonder in his voice, “you keep fucking with him like that, you are going to _die_.”

Ray shrugged. “When?” he asked airily before following the Vagabond. That did it, Geoff was looking the right kind of horrified and the other boss looked almost impressed. Hopefully they would spread the word, how Ray was crazy suicidal but still useful enough the Vagabond wouldn't kill him. And that was almost the truth.

~*~

“Is this okay?” Ray asked softly. He was sprawled across Ryan’s lower half, head pillowed comfortably on his stomach. His hand was in a safe spot, square in the center of Ryan’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with his steady breaths. There was a scar that he was very interested in, running up his left pec. Ray hadn't touched it yet, but it was very tempting. His fingers danced close, just softly tracing the outside edge. 

Ryan nodded, looking down at him with sleepy but interested eyes. He was slumped against the shitty flat pillows their shit hotel room had provided, but lounged on them like he was a cover model for the kind of magazines hidden behind the counters at certain establishments. Peak unfair bullshit. 

So Ray was talking his revenge for him looking so good by winding him up. Very, _very_ slowly.

“Is there anything off-limits here or…” That got a very emphatic head shake no. Ryan clearly had some idea where Ray was going (expected it?) but he had to be sure he had the right road map. A lot of the scars were old, long-healed and faded, but others still looked far-too tender. 

Hell, though, that's what he asked for.

Ryan's consent guided him on, moving his fingers more firmly against the former gouge. If he had to guess, he would guess knife, probably aiming for the heart but missed. Ryan had most likely dodged, going by the angle of the scar. It did have neat tiny scars on either side, so it had been stitched up, but by _who_ was the real question. Ryan didn't seem like the emergency room type.

“The way I see it,” Ray said idly, lightly running his finger along the wonky edge of a burn on his ribs, “you're always the one making me verbalize shit, even when it makes me wanna cut my tongue out.” Because he was a bastard, Ray followed that up by running his tongue over the knife scar, getting a jolt and a loud gasp out of Ryan. Fuck yeah. “And I know that's healthy relationship stuff and whatever, but you gotta talk to me too, you know.”

Ryan snorted loudly. “You know what I mean,” Ray countered. “You know everything I like and don't like, you know how to make me spill my guts like an asshole, so I figure if we're gonna be on the same page, I gotta know that shit, too.” Ray paused to rub his cheek against the light fuzz in the middle of Ryan’s chest. “But I also wanna make sure I’m not gonna make you flip out by doing the wrong thing. So…” Ray trailed off, having exhausted his amount of words that made sense. But Ryan could figure it out.

Ryan’s fingers threaded through his hair, rubbing gently through the strands. Ray hummed at the feeling, like he was a big comfortable cat, burying his face further into Ryan's chest. That was encouragement as far as he was concerned. They’d figure their shit out in their own way, the way they always did. 

He kept his fingers light against Ryan’s side, gently running over the odd lumps and scars on his side and the bottom of his ribs. There weren’t any objections, so he followed his path with his lips, teasing and exploring at the same time. That got some even better reactions, like cut-off gasps and whimpers. 

“Still good?”

Ryan made some kind of strangled choking noise. When Ray glanced up to confirm the look on his face, Ryan was staring at him with some kind of frustrated wonder. Still good.

Ray carefully paid attention to each scar, old and new, keeping half his brain focused for any negative reactions. It seemed to be having the right kind of effect- Ryan’s breath was hitching under his hands but it wasn’t in alarm or discomfort. That was definitely a good sign. Ray just really didn’t want to fuck something up and do the wrong thing, not when Ryan was so damn good about figuring out and sticking to his boundaries, even when he hadn't needed to. He had to do the same.

Bullet holes at the bottom of the ribs, a set of three grouped together. The burn stretching down his side and across his stupid fucking abs. One really deep-looking entrance hole, like something nasty had jabbed his side. Then the one under his navel, slicing along the bottom of his stomach. Too steady and deliberate to be an accident. The muscles in Ryan's stomach tensed under Ray’s hand as it moved closer, but not in anticipation.

Ray stopped immediately, even though his hair was tugged to spur him on. “Talk to me, man.” Ray addressed his belly button. “Want me to keep going?” The answering tug seemed hesitant. “Or are you doing that shit I tried to pull? Tryin to make yourself put up with something you don’t like, ‘cause you want this to keep going?”

He knew he was right, and he glanced up to see Ryan biting at his lower lip, like he was caught in a lie, and that just confirmed it. Ray pushed himself up on his elbows, and Ryan’s hand slid to the back of his neck. He rubbed the skin there hesitantly, eyes glue to Ray's face like he was looking for disapproval. “Am I gonna have to have a super embarrassing talk about boundaries with you, too?” Ray teased, but he was totally serious. There was a solid pit in his stomach, just from getting close to something that would discomfort Ryan. God, now he knew how the bastard must have felt.

Ryan tipped his head back, sighing through his nose. Ray waited patiently for an answer, and he got it when Ryan shook his head. The hand slid back into his hair and directed him away, towards his other side, where Ray promptly started back in with the kissing.

In the back of his mind, he filed Ryan's reaction away. That was very obviously something he'd have to avoid, in the likely event he'd have his head that low around Ryan's body in the future. He didn't know (but he could guess) what that scar was from, but until Ryan opened his backstory up, it would just remain a fucking mystery. And he was fine with that.

Ray focused on kissing as much skin as he could while running his hand across what he couldn’t, very carefully avoiding _that_ spot. Ryan really seemed to appreciate that, if the pleased noises coming from his throat again were any indication. And bonus, every time Ryan made one of those noises Ray felt a wonderful swoop in the pit of his stomach. Making Ryan feel amazing felt amazing. He never wanted anything else.

There was a wonky scar all along the upper ribs, several small ripped punctures. Ray guessed the dumbass had probably fell on some barbed wire, since Ray had a scar exactly like that on his lower back from exactly that. His upper arm was ringed with scars, and so was his lower arm, from knife swipes, that Ray mentally made an appointment to visit later. Finally, there was that hidden one, under his chin, which Ray could see since Ryan had his head tilted back. It looked really damn tempting, but after what happened with the one on his stomach, Ray felt the need to ask.

“Is it okay if I touch that one?” Ray asked, carefully running one hand up Ryan's chest so his thumb brushed the hollow of his throat.

Ryan slammed his head back so hard it thudded painfully on the wall behind him. Ray snorted as Ryan winced unhappily, before emphatically nodding. Okay then. Ray surged up against his chest to get his head at level with his, immediately zoning in on that thin white line. The aim wasn't exactly to cover it entirely in hickies, but it was definitely a goal Ray strove for as he nipped and sucked on the thin skin of Ryan's neck. Ryan was _loving_ it, hips surging up, hands gripping Ray's sides so hard he was definitely going to have bruises. God, Ray hoped there would be.

After there were some definite semi-permanent marks all over his neck, Ray finally pulled back, bracing himself against Ryan's chest. The other man has such a goofy blissed-out look on his face, Ray couldn't help but lean up and kiss him, long and deep.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking amazing you are? Like seriously?” Ray's question was quiet, but it got a hell of a reaction from Ryan if the hitch in his chest meant anything. His eyes were looking too blue, too intense, staring at Ray _that_ way that meant feelings were happening. Ray had a brief thought about squirming away, suddenly aware that his words might have been _too much_ , but the grip wasn't budging. And he didn't feel like moving away anyway.

Ryan finally leant forward, resting his forehead against Ray's. That he got, loud and clear. He never needed to worry about that.

~*~

Fuck. The. Cold.

Winter hit the East Coast like a shovel to the back of the head. Ray had no fucking idea it ever got so cold, since it was his first real winter there. Suddenly his hoodies weren't cutting it ‒ he needed a coat, and gloves when his fingers nearly froze on the metal of his gun. And all of a sudden, wearing all black in a snowy landscape was not a good look for a sniper. It was total bullshit.

Ryan didn't like it either ‒ his disgust at the snow was so glaringly obvious without him even saying a word. As soon as their job was done (guarding a drug stash until the distributors got there, so easy they could do it in their sleep except that it was _fucking freezing_ ), he shoved Ray into the car and drove them south as fast as he could while being safe on the icy roads. They finally settled at a beach house, of all things, all bright and summery and, for a bit, warm. Ray appreciated the new atmosphere and did his best to ignore the fact that the house didn't seem to be a rental or a typical squatter abode.

The cold found them. There was some sort of freak weather outbreak that pushed the cold and snow even further south. Ryan had been looking for local jobs, but it seemed like everything was frozen because of the weather, including the crime. That meant they spent days shut in together, layered in sweatpants and sweaters and staying under the blankets. Ryan bought space heaters and put in the actual effort to type out swear words to tell Ray exactly how he felt. 

At least sex warmed them up.

On the third shut-in day, Ray was curled up Ryan's lap, playing a game on his handheld while Ryan was doing something on his phone. Ray's head was resting against his chest, cocooned by blankets and his arms, nice and warm and perfect. Ryan patted his side, getting his attention away from his game. Ray sat up and stretched, blinking sleepily before he held his hand out for the phone Ryan passed him. 

There was a text message on the screen ‒ the contact name had a goofy sheep emoji, so Ray guessed that meant Geoff, since he hadn't been able to find a proper mustache emoji to use.

**Just wanted to let you know there's no hard feelings on our end. Michael’s chilled out about things. Also it's 75 degrees and sunny out here. Interested in a job?**

“Oh fuck yes,” Ray blurted. Ryan laughed, burying his face him his hair and quickly sending a reply back.

An exhausting two-day drive across the country later, they found themselves at the meeting point, which happened to be in the middle of the desert. And Ray was just damn fine with that. He sprawled on the roof of the car, slowly baking in his hoodie under the sun like a lizard. It felt amazing.

He didn't even bother sitting up when he heard the other car pull up. The Vagabond had him covered, giving the crew the usual murder-glare greeting. Doors opened and Geoff started nervously chattering at the Vagabond, who obviously gave no answer. Ray grinned to himself. Hearing other people wig out over the Vagabond never got old.

“Uhh, is he dead?” Geoff's voice came from by his feet, and Ray kicked a leg out to keep him away.

“Yeah, I'm dead. Vagabond totally killed me, now he's doing some kind of fucked-up puppeteering on me.” When Ray sat up and saw the perturbed look on the older man's face, he kept going. “I've actually been dead the whole time, you just haven't noticed. He's just that good of a ventrilo-whatever.” 

“Ventriloquist,” Jack supplied. Ray grinned at her and got a smile in return.

“Exactly. You never see his mouth moving, do you?” 

The Vagabond was glaring, because of course he was. It wasn't like he could laugh like Gavin and Jack were. Even Michael seemed to be holding back a smile. Geoff finally caught on to the joke, even if he kept sending nervous looks over at the Vagabond.

“Okay, asshole,” he groused with a smile. “If you're done tanning, we’ll get to work.” Ray rolled his eyes over at the Vagabond, who rolled his right back. It was almost nice being teased, now that Geoff caught on that Ray wasn't a stoic prick like the Vagabond. Just a generic dickhead.

They were given some leeway for this heist, splitting up to set up and gather supplies. Everyone had communicators, handy little earpieces, and Ray knew the Vagabond enjoyed the awkward way Geoff handed his over. The two younger guys paired up, and so did Jack and Geoff. Going over the plan again, Ray saw the obvious ‒ the reason they'd been hired was simply because they needed more hands, and there they were, a convenient two-fer that so far hadn't gone all murderous on them. Like they were just part of the group, not there for show of force.

“So, Brownman,” Gav’s voice chirped over the comms as they all drove off in different directions. “You get a million dollars, but‒” Gav was cut off by the sounds of the rest of the crew loudly groaning. “But!” he continued with a laugh, after what sounded like a punch from Michael. “Every time you make a involuntary bodily noise, you have to moan like you're having sex.”

“Really? That's what you came up with? That's your fucking ‘brilliant icebreaker, boi!’” Michael's voice was scathing, and his imitation of Gav impeccable. “Where do you even come up with this shit?” The rest of the crew were ragging him just as hard. It sounded like this was something he did a lot, and they weren't happy about it.

Ray grinned slyly over at the Vagabond. “So, when you say involuntary noise‒”

Geoff cut him off. “Don't encourage him!”

Ray kept going. “You're talking like a fart or sneezing, right?”

“Right!” Gav replied gleefully. “Not something you have control over.”

“So do I have control over the sex noises? Like, do I have to remember to make the noise every time or is it also involuntary?” He could sense the bitch face the Vagabond sent in his direction but couldn't shake the grin off his face. It was so stupid, but he loved it.

“Uhh...no.” Gav decided. “You have to make the noise yourself.”

“That makes no sense,” Jack interjected. “What if you're farting in your sleep? You expect him to what, wake up, moan, and go back to sleep?” 

“What, you don't do that anyway?” There was definitely a smile under the mask as everyone else laughed. The Vagabond was probably just happy he wasn't on the receiving end of Ray's snark for once

“So, would you do it?” Gav asked gleefully, like it wasn't some stupid hypothetical. Ray grinned ruefully.

“You know, it's really tempting. Like, if I were anyone else, I'd probably go for it, but I don't want to be like, hiding in the rafters somewhere and have my stomach growl and be like ‘uugh.’” 

Ray's fake sex noise made the crew break out in laughs again. And better yet, he'd finally got the Vagabond to crack. He collapsed against the car door, one had pressed to the front of his mask. He hadn't been able to keep back the first wheezy laugh, but he was trying his hardest to hold the rest in. Ray felt a bloom of pride. Of course he knew how Ray really sounded in bed, so that was probably what set him off.

“Well, no, wait, wait,” Michael cut in. “What if that was your thing, like, right before you pop a guy you start moaning, and that's what you're known for? Like ‘ohh, watch out for the Brownman, the last thing you're gonna hear is him jizzin’ right before he gets ya.’”

Gavin's stupid icebreaker actually seemed to work. The conversation continued and warped as they spread through the city, and Ray was right there with them, giving as good as he got. The Vagabond cracked up along with him, even taking part in his own way. Ray read off several of his insults, not attributing them to him, but it didn't matter, not with the stupid grin he knew was under the mask. It was good to have some fun with a crew again.

~*~

“You are the actual worst, you know?” Ray complained. “Like legitimately, the worst person to ever exist. No one else can top you.”

Ryan hummed conversationally. Fucker wasn't even trying to hide how pleased he was. And given their positions, there wasn't any way to hide _exactly_ how pleased he was. Ray was sure it was some kind of revenge for something, but he was having a hard time remembering what. Not when Ryan's hand was warm on his stomach, touching him and stroking him like he couldn't get enough.

Ryan's hand made another pass across his lower stomach, slipping under the waistband of his pants. Ray hissed at the feeling, grinding up so his ass rubbed against Ryan's front. Two could play that game, but Ryan unfairly had the upper hand since he was sprawled on top of him, pinning him down. And he had the advantage of not being on the clock.

“If I miss this shot ‘cause of you I'm gonna be pissed.” His first solo job in over a year, a _real_ sniper job, with just one shot to take out the target. A proper sniper shot, lurking on a rooftop and waiting for his target to wander into his crosshairs. Normally the waiting was the boring part, but he had Ryan along, playing bodyguard, but instead being a distracting piece of shit. 

Ryan was clearly having too much fun he with it. Not with his face pressed to the back of Ray's neck, smile evident against his skin. It had started innocently enough, offering up his not-Vagabond leather jacket for Ray to lay on, but then he took advantage of Ray's situation to straight up lie down on top of him. Then the groping started.

A garbled noise shot out of Ray's throat when Ryan's hand headed north, brushing against his nipples. Well shit. Ryan laughed like he had just discovered a new toy, bending his head to start sucking a hickey on his neck. Ray gritted his teeth, trying to focus on the view of the crowd below him. The target was supposed to have shown up a few minutes ago ‒ if he missed it because Ryan was being distracting...

Well, he'd be out a paycheck, for starters. Then he wouldn't be worth being a sniper anymore, because what kind of sniper couldn't get such an easy shot? Then he'd be out of the criminal world, out of Ryan's life because he would be useless again, then he'd have nothing, nowhere to go and nothing to do-

It'd happened before. It could happen again.

Ray stiffened when he saw a black car pull up. Jamming his face to the scope so fast he banged it against his eyebrow, Ray locked in on the passenger door, just in time to see his target through the opening door.

“It’s him,” Ray breathed, shoulders already hunching into position. Ryan's hand shot out from under his shirt as the world closed down until it was confined to the sight through his scope. Every second lingered, watching the target get out and fix his suit as his finger settled on the trigger. Exhale. Squeeze.

The target didn't even get one step towards the door before he dropped.

Ray breathed a sigh of relief as screams began rising from below. Ryan sighed with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as his hands came back around to pull him close. Ray let him, melting in his arms, finally able to enjoy it. “Got him,” he said under his breath, an assurance he didn't really need. But he wanted to hear.

Job wasn't over though. Not until they were off the roof and home free. Ryan hauled him up and towed him to the stairwell as Ray began breaking down the gun. Ryan slipped his jacket back on and wrapped an arm around his hips, letting his fingers wander back under his clothes.

“Okay, asshole, you can fondle freely now,” Ray grumbled, trying to sound mad when he wasn't. Ryan punched the elevator button and pulled him closer using the grip on his hips. Ray let himself be pulled flush to Ryan's chest, arching up to kiss that stupid grin off his face. His own hands went for a wander, around his back and under the jacket, so he could tuck the pieces of his gun in the waistband of his pants. He also got a good grope of his own in.

When the elevator arrived they stumbled in, all over each other, since that was part of the plan. That's why Ray was wearing just a tank top under his open hoodie, and dangerously tight pants, and Ryan was wearing a shirt that was way too unfairly tight. They looked like every other party-goer on the street, and the constant making out meant that the other people who eventually joined them in the elevator didn't look at them too closely.

But really, all the excuses in the world didn't mean shit when kissing and grinding on Ryan was something Ray wanted to do all day, every day anyway.

There were cops already gathering when they got to the ground floor, but they stayed locked at the hips, clearly too engrossed with each other to have pulled off such an efficient kill shot. They joined the mob of people staggering towards the clubs, and once the coast was clear, split away for their own hotel. Where Ryan very thoroughly finished what he started on the roof.

There were no chance to make a joke or even turn on the lights. Ryan just roughly pushed him through the door and onto the bed, making Ray's stomach lurch in an alarmingly pleased way. Seemed that maybe the job had affected him a bit too much. Ray gave just as good, biting at his neck as Ryan tried to wrestle him out of those tight pants. He wasn't making it any easier by hooking his legs around Ryan's hips every chance he got, because he was an asshole and he loved the way it made Ryan rub against him.

Ryan fucking growled, frustration being voiced the only way it could be. Ray laughed in his face, and okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to do, because Ryan straight up grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over, so his face and chest were pressed roughly to the bed. Using his weight to his advantage, Ryan kept him pinned as he grabbed his wrists and slammed them over his head. Ray had to fight the whimper that almost snuck out. Holy shit. Everything he dreamed was finally happening, and it felt _amazing_.

For a few moments they just sat there, breathing, Ray focusing on not coming just from being manhandled. He knew Ryan was waiting for his go-ahead to know it was okay to proceed. “Fucking hell, you fucking dickhead.” Ray's voice was muffled by the mattress, but it was clear who his words were directed to. “Fucking fuck me already!”

That did it, that got the reaction out of Ryan he wanted, by shoving him into the bed harder. He held his wrists in one hand as the other came down to grab his thigh, pulling it open wider. Then Ray could feel his hips against his ass, grinding that bulge right up against him. And the pants needed to come off, fucking immediately, so he could feel it against his skin and so maybe his dick didn't fall off from the tightness in front.

With Ray's hands still pinned (and holy shit was he already signing himself up for more of that, yes please and thank you) Ryan was unhindered in his quest to apparently drive him nuts. Instead of pulling his pants off or sliding his hand under them, those hands rubbed up and down his spine, like a shitty back rub, before sliding back around to his chest. Ray's hips jerked as they reached back up to rub his nipple, like before, breath stuttering at the unusual sensation. “You fucking…asshole,” Ray breathed.

Ryan's lips were back against his neck, sucking and licking and kissing. Ray felt like he was going to go insane, helpless against the onslaught of feelings. And fuck, even if he could move, he wouldn't. Not with the way he felt, not with the way Ryan's hips were still flexing against his, slowly and steadily, as his hand continued to roam.

Ray whined when his hand _finally_ got back to where it needed to go, rubbing against the front of his pants, where his dick was straining the fabric. “Don't you fuck _ing_!” Ray squeaked when he pressed too hard, almost making him come in his pants. Oh, he was gonna get him back, he was gonna give Ryan the blowjob of his life at some really inopportune moment, just to be an asshole because _clearly_ Ryan wasn't below doing that.

As Ray panted into the mattress, the hand holding his wrists squeezed hard, pressing him to the bed, before letting go. A clear order to stay put, so he did, even as his arms trembled to move. But there was something good about keeping them up, keeping to Ryan's plan even when he was being a teasing jerk. But he was taking full advantage of both hands to finally get those pants off, partially freeing Ray from his agony. Ray breathed a sigh of relief as they were flung away, followed by Ryan's pair. As great as they made his ass look, he didn't want them anywhere near his body anymore.

One slick hand was already at his hole, circling once before sliding in a finger easily. The other hand snuck down to cradle Ray's dick, stroking just so lightly that had Ray gritting his teeth. Asshole. The only relief he got was that the prepping was quick, almost a little too quick but he didn't care, he'd stopped caring a long time ago, he just wanted Ryan in him.

Ryan's hand _finally_ anchored on his hip, holding him steady. Ray squeezed his eyes closed at the first push, almost pushing him over the edge, but soon he was completely inside and thrusting away _hard_ , brutally hard and fast so he couldn't catch his breath, couldn't even think about moving back. Just complete bliss and sensations, letting Ryan do exactly what he needed to get them both to completion. When he finally came, Ray was sure he passed out for a second, lost in a blaze of white hot pleasure.

When his brain finally came back online, he was fully slumped on the bed, every muscle loose and singing praises. Ryan was still there, wiping at his skin with a wet towel. His hands gently guided his hips to roll him over, and Ray felt far too gooey to help. The slightly worried frown on Ryan's face disappeared when Ray gave him a blissed-out grin and a weak thumbs up. He was okay, more than okay, never fucking better and totally ready to do all that again.

Ryan's hands were so gentle and careful as he helped rub feeling back into Ray's hands. As Ray slumped in his arms against the pillows, wanting a cuddle and maybe some more fun, Ryan retrieved his phone from his pants. Ray idly watched the screen as he typed, his brain slow to interpret the words.

**You're amazing. I knew you'd get the shot since you're a fantastic sniper, the best I've ever seen. And you did so well just now, you're perfect and I'm so proud of you**

“Fucking flattery,” Ray whispered against his skin, trying to keep the warm feeling in his chest contained so didn't go barfing out something he couldn't say yet. Ryan's smile and kiss were all for him, all for doing a good job, and that was just as good as any orgasm or paycheck.

~*~

Ray was pretty sure Geoff and his crew had lost their damn minds.

Hiring them again for a job ‒ yeah, okay, he got that. He and the Vagabond were good at what they did, and the crew seemed to be raking it in so why not hire them to lend assistance? Ray sure as shit wasn’t going to argue with that, especially since fucking with them was so much fun.

But splitting up him and the Vagabond? Bad idea. Stupid plan. Possibly even moronic.  
Sure, Geoff had some excuse to go along with his plan, pairing Ray up with Gavin and sticking Jack and the Vagabond together. Ray and the Vagabond had exchanged an eye roll heavy with disbelief, and Jack didn't look thrilled either. Surprisingly, Ray didn't feel any worry for her. If anyone aside from him could handle the Vagabond, it would be her.

Before they split up, Gavin already bouncing with excitement, the Vagabond pulled him away from the group for a brief moment. Ray waited, grinning to himself, as the Vagabond undid the knife holster strapped to his thigh (normally Ray was the one who undid it, and had a lot of fun with it.) He handed it over to Ray, who took it with another eye roll.

“I already got protection,” Ray dryly joked as he strapped it to himself anyway. Jack was watching, something calculating in her eyes, before shrugging. With a toss of her short red hair, she swooped into the space beside the Vagabond, linking her arm with his as he stood frozen in shock. 

“Don't worry, honey, you won't need that with me,” she drawled with an overdramatic wink. Ray's laughed joined Geoff's, who looked like he got a joke that totally went over Ray and the Vagabond's heads. Ray waved them away with a waggle of his fingers, loving the idea of the petrified look on the Vagabond's face as Jack steered him away, and went off to join Gavin.

After a breathless ride through the city (Gavin spent the whole time squealing as Ray ran lights and took corners as fast as he could) they ended up at the top of the building they'd be breaking into. Gavin had brought his own laptop, one that could rival Ryan's in put-togetherness, and was hacking his way into the building's security. Ray took his usual spot on the edge of the building, setting up his sniper so he'd be ready when the cops started showing. Adrenaline was building in his legs and spine, but the sounds of everyone joking in his ear was oddly relaxing. Just a typical set-up, as far as any criminal activity could be called “normal”.

Movement from Gavin caught his attention. Ray glanced over, and tensed when he saw the other guy was removing his earpiece, looking strangely more sober than he’d ever seen. A ripple of fear squirmed through him. Fuck, maybe it was a setup? He'd thought they were past that. 

“Dude,” Ray said warningly. He pulled his gun off the ledge, just in case, glaring like crazy.

Gavin shook his head, sitting down with a sigh. “Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but it's fine, I swear. I just wanna talk. Ya know, privately.”

“‘Bout what?” Ray asked suspiciously. He kept his earpiece in place, so everyone could hear his end of the conversation. The fear turned into bitter annoyance. Gav was probably gonna ask something about the Vagabond. And Ray didn't fucking appreciate that the Brit thought he'd spill about his buddy just cause they were kinda chill.

Gavin look at his shoes, playing with one of his cheap rings. He didn't look like he was about to attack, but maybe he was enough of an idiot to try. “I just wanted to say sorry. About your old crew.”

 _Oh._ Ray couldn't stop his eyebrows from jumping, but the were covered by the mask so Gav couldn't tell. He hadn't been expecting that. “How’d you find out about that?” Ray asked. There was a threat under the question ‒ it wasn't exactly common knowledge, so that meant Gavin had been snooping. Or did he have some other connection to them? No, then he wouldn't be apologizing, would he?

“Police reports and stuff,” Gavin shrugged and gave Ray a sheepish look. “I wasn't looking to snoop about you, honest. But I just saw you used to be part of them and now I...I feel kinda bad cause…” he paused dramatically, or maybe just to steel himself up. “It's my fault the Vagabond went after them.”

“The fuck you talking about?” Ray wasn’t faking the surprise in his voice. 

“A few months ago, I got a message with a bank account number, saying I could have all the money in there if I could get them through the firewall of the guys who sent it.” Gavin was really avoiding Ray's stare now. “It wasn't easy, but I tracked it back to your old crew and cracked their system. I didn't think anything of it; I just did it and got the money ‘cause I was so fucking broke.” The other guy looked oddly guilty, like this was actually something that was weighing on him. “Then a few days later the Vagabond started rinsing through them and I figured he was the one who asked, and I'd been the one to point him in that direction.” 

_Not quite,_ Ray wanted to say. But if Gavin wasn't making the connection between him and the Vagabond and linking it to his old crew, he sure as fuck wasn't going to point it out. He hadn't known the Vagabond had actually accepted the job offer. But obviously it had been the money's electronic trail that led him to finding out their weaknesses, so he must have.

“How much was there?” Ray asked. Despite himself, he was curious, since they were no longer a threat. How much did they think his stupid neck was worth?

“Half a billion.”

“Holy fuck!” Ray gasped. And that was probably only half the take ‒ the other would have come when the job was done. They'd really been that desperate to get rid of him. He was almost stupidly proud of that.

“Yeah.” Gavin looked sheepishly pleased. “That was what got us started here, since they were gone and I had all that fucking money. Well, most of it went back to him since we hired you guys to get Michael back. And it all worked out nice for us, but you...I mean‒” Gavin gestured vaguely, but Ray got his mearing.

“Yeah. It's all right.” Ray was suddenly aware of the quiet line in his ear, everyone else still listening in, and turned off his piece too. “I wasn't even really with them anymore, so it doesn't matter.” Hopefully, that lie would be enough to throw Gav off. “I'm kinda better off with them gone, really.” More than Gavin probably guessed. He was back to his easy smile, obviously relieved Ray wasn't mad. “Did you tell Geoff?”

“Nah, Geoff doesn't know. He just thinks I got the money from back home‒ I mean England.” Gavin swallowed and glanced up. “I did tell Michael. Or, I mean, I told him‒ he was still bein’ mingey about working with the Vagabond after...you know...so I just told him he probably did the same thing to your crew and you were still chill with it so…”

That wasn't even close to the real situation but Ray wasn't about to correct him. “That's fine, just‒” Ray shrugged indifferently, “I kinda don't want it public knowledge, ya know?”

Gavin smiled blindingly, all seriousness gone. “Yeah buddy, I get it. I ain't sayin nothin.’”

Ray nodded, because what choice did he have? If Gav was gonna spill, he already would have. He turned back towards the street, tucking the earpiece back behind his ear. From the sound of things the gang had moved on to talking about other shit. His phone, though, was vibrating like crazy in his pocket. With a glance over at Gavin, who had put his own earpiece back in and was happily teasing Michael, he slipped his phone out to look at the series of texts.

**What is he talking about?**

**???**

**????????**

Ray snorted and texted the Vagabond back.

**Nothing critical tell u later**

That would have to do for now. It was way too much to put in a text.

The heist actually went off without a hitch ‒ except for Gavin somehow managing to give himself a paper cut from a door. Ray joined Michael in the brutal verbal mocking as he got them to the safehouse, their jokes bouncing through the comms right after the other. At the safehouse, Ray took a break to wrap Gavin's hand, under the silent watch of the Vagabond, who had gotten back first with Jack. Ray tried not to squirm under the look the Vagabond was giving him. He knew his looks, but that one was new, and he didn't know what it meant.

Ray was all set to take Geoff up on his offer of dinner, but the Vagabond jerked his head at the door like an asshole so Ray had to follow. Ray was quiet through the ride away from the city, trying to figure out why Ryan had gone all prickly. Was it because of the text, his convo with Gavin? He wasn't jealous or anything, right? That was mental.

When they stopped for gas in a dusty little down, Ray got out with Ryan, coming around to his side and parking his hip on the front bumper. “So I guess you didn't know it was Gav that cracked open my old crew for you?” Ray already knew the answer, but it was worth asking to watch Ryan's eyebrows jump. They came right back down and settled into a questioning frown.

“Not all the details,” Ray answered. “I don't know if he thinks we teamed up later or what, but he doesn't think you went after them because of me.”

Ryan tilted his head, a considering look on his face. Ray played with his hoodie strings until Ryan finally pulled out his phone to answer.

 **I got his contact info from that guy we ran into at Cat's gun store. He said it was a hacker friend of his.**

“ _Oh!_ ” Memory suddenly flashed of the other British guy they had met. “Wow, small world, huh?” Ryan grinned. All tension seemed to leave him since he had the answer. Ray almost felt bad for leaving him in the dark for so long.

**I was almost worried you two were plotting some shit or something**

Ray snorted, loudly, to show how stupid he thought that was. “You seriously think I'd leave your model ass for a twig like him? I'm offended.” That got the smile and the laugh, the one that lit up his face so perfectly, and Ray finally relaxed as well. Point for communication. 

~*~

“You don't mind me making friends with them, do you?”

Ryan tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Classic question face, except for the long noodles hanging from his lips he hadn't bothered to slurp. At least he hadn't spat them out. Ray's cooking wasn't the greatest but at least (he thought) he'd done okay with the spaghetti. 

Ray jabbed at the meatballs he'd heated in the microwave. “The crew, you know? The Fakes?” Good on them for finally picking a name, and getting established. In the wake of the tearing down of Ray’s old gang, there were tons of smaller gangs trying to climb to the top and take control of Los Santos, and the Fakes had joined the scramble. Ray and Ryan had helped them some, but the crew was doing impressively well for themselves.

They certainly were the ones getting the most attention, at least, no thanks at all to the giant ass skyscraper Geoff had build to lord over them all. Reputation really counted more than most thought. Publicity and style were just as important as having skills ‒ working with the Vagabond had really proved that to Ray. Still, getting hired too much by one crew led to familiarity, to getting attached, even when there weren't even any real reason to be sticking around.

Ryan wiped sauce from his mouth and grabbed his phone. **I don't have a problem. They’re fun, you obviously like hanging out with them so why not? Unless you don't want to keep lying to them tho we can come up with some reason to stop working with them**

“Meh,” Ray shrugged. “Doesn't really bother me.” A thought occurred to him. “Does it bother you, lying all the time?” he asked. Ryan hadn't ever shown he'd had a problem, but the guy was a seriously good actor, so who knew?

Ryan snorted. **I haven't told a lie in years**

“Fucker.” Ryan laughed and typed some more.

**I get away with a lot of stuff because I don't ever talk, since I don't have to tell anyone anything. Present company excluded**

“So you seriously don't mind always acting like an asshole all the time?” Ray pressed. Ryan stared down at his plate of pasta for a minute, giving Ray's question some thought before he finally typed a very long message for him.

 **Most of the time no, since everyone I'm dealing with is also an asshole. But it felt like shit for a while back after I moved in trying to keep from liking you.** Something lurched in Ray's chest as he remembered those first few weeks. **Since I didn't know you or why the hell you were acting the way you were. Once I finally figured you weren't going to hurt me I tried really hard to keep my distance since I didn't want to get close to you.**

Stunned, Ray resisted his head against his hand, staring across the table at Ryan. Fucking hell, how had they even gotten to where they were, eating spaghetti and talking about things like adults? Thinking back to where they had been, Ray completely unable to give a shit and Ryan giving too many about his useless ass, and trying not to? It was a miracle they’d ever fucked.

Ryan looked sad as Ray thought things over, like he seriously regretted his past actions. But there was no point worrying about that anymore.

“I hate to break it to you buddy, but you kinda fucking failed at that,,” Ray teased, just to get that smile back on his face. It did, and Ray half-got out if his seat to lean over the pot on the table. Ryan met his kiss half-way.

~*~

“Goddamn.” Ray craned his neck as far as he could to squint at the roof. “Think he's compensating for something?” 

Ryan snorted loudly, obviously thinking along the same lines. Because of course Geoff's new tower would have to be at least ten stories higher than the one that had stood before. And he _had_ to live at the very top, in what promised to be a very lavish penthouse. Nothing but the finest for Geoff.

Ray checked his phone again and sighed. “Two minutes,” he informed Ryan, who nodded. Geoff had invited them up for a pre-heist meetup, but the issue was the vast amounts of security and the fact that Ryan couldn’t just walk up to the front door in his full Vagabond get-up. So Ray had gotten Gavin’s assurance that they’d shut down the security feed for two minutes, giving them time to get into the building and suit up. 

Complicated, but Ray was certain Ryan wouldn’t have shown up otherwise. And he kinda wanted to check out the new place. They'd turned down an offer to stay the night, because Ray had a pretty good idea that would _not_ turn out well. But from what Gavin and Michael had gushed to him over texts, the gaming system was the best on the market, and he couldn't wait to get his grubby hands on it.

When their time was up, or rather, when they had their opening, Ray and Ryan quickly hoofed it from their place out of range of the cameras. Ryan was eyeballing the building, no doubt thinking of how he'd burn it all down if the cameras weren't really off. They reached the private entrance they had been directed to, and Ray punched the access code as Ryan slipped on the mask and jacket. He entered first, stepping into a clean little lobby as Ray slapped his mask to his face and jerked up his hood. They were in place, all suited up, and still had thirty seconds left. Fucking flawless.

Ray positioned himself in front of the large obvious security camera, posing with a middle finger salute. The Vagabond snorted, choosing his usual intimidation pose in the background. Ray barely got face under control before the red camera light blinked to life. A second later, the overhead speaker burst to life with the unmistakable sound of Geoff's laugh. 

Ray's grin grew. “Don't leave us hanging here, Geoff. Let us up.” 

“You assholes look like a bad rap album cover. Hold on.” The elevator dinged and opened smoothly. Ray finally dropped his pose, leading the way into the brightly mirrored stall.

“Damn,” Ray muttered under his breath. “Too bad there's probably a camera in here too, or we could get up to some shit.” The implication was obvious and got him a nudge in the ribs. Damn cameras ruining the fun.

“Fuck my ass,” Ray breathed when the elevator opened and Geoff welcomed them in. It was like stepping into a fancy hotel, but it was very obviously lived in by a gang of people who gave no shits about cleaning up.The room still smelled like paint, but with the greasy smell of pizza over it. Shiny kitchen appliances already hosting an impressive array of liquor bottles. And the coveted game system hooked up to a TV three times the size of Ray himself.

Geoff looked both proud and slightly worried as he grandly gestured around the room. “So yeah, here it is. It’s kinda flashy, you know, but it's pretty cool. I know the guys already made a mess but they wouldn't clean it up-”

“Dude, its nice,” Ray cut him off, finally looking away from the game system to grin at Geoff. “Better than any of the shitholes I’ve lived in before, so I can't judge.” 

He caught some motion behind Geoff’s back, and his eyes snapped over to the Vagabond. “Sorry, what was that?” he asked pleasantly. The Vagabond didn’t move, somehow looking totally innocent in a black skull mask. “What was that you just did? Wanna share with the class?” Ray tried to glare, but he _knew_ that stupid shit-eating grin was there under the latex.

“Did he just call you a cocksucker?” Jack asked gleefully from behind him. She had obviously caught the motion too. Michael started cackling in delight.

Ray shot an outraged look at the Vagabond. “Takes one to know one,” he snapped back at him. 

“Okay, okay, knock it off,” Geoff said loudly over Gavin and Michael's laughter. Probably trying to distract the Vagabond so he didn't murder them all. He was obviously trying to be serious, but there was a smile hiding under his ‘stache. Just like Ray knew there was a smile under the Vagabond's mask.

To Ray's delight, Geoff announced that their pre-heisting would be in teams. “Lads vs Gents,” he said happily, clapping his hands together. “It'll be fun. What's the worst thing that could happen?”

“The Vagabond needs to be on our team then,” Ray immediately cut in. “He's only like five, just a baby‒” Ray abruptly shut up to dodge the knife sent flying by his head.

“That's why we're splitting you up, you lunatic!” Geoff shouted at him. “Holy shit, just chill for a minute. Yeah, its gonna Lads vs Gents, and whoever gets done first gets to take the lead for the next heist.

Ray saw the Vagabond's head perk up. Oh lord, what kinds of heist ideas did he have? He was too afraid to even ask.

“Please tell me you guys have a plan, right?” He asked in an undertone as he joined Gavin and Michael in the elevator. They both grinned at him, looking far too gleeful to be innocent.

“Geoff didn't say nothin about planning ahead, did he?” Gavin delightfully pointed out. Ray grinned back, reassured that he would live to see the Vagabond's heist plans another day.

Sure enough, thanks to some very helpful guys just standing around, waiting to check supplies into the back of the souped-up truck they were driving around in, they were done _much_ faster than the Gents. There were some accusations of cheating unfairly thrown around, which were passionately denied. Flush with success, they tuned out the bitching and headed downtown for some fun. But not the kind of fun Ray usually liked.

“Come on, man, real quick, just one drink,” Gavin pleaded. He and Michael were both staring at him with a look like they were wondering why he wasn't being a good sport. Guilt spread even as Ray grimaced. 

“Okay, fine, one drink. But I'm not drinking alcohol, that shit’s gross.” He wasn't sure the guys heard the last part when it was drowned out by their cheering, but it wasn't like they'd be able to _make_ him drink. Gavin grinned and grabbed his wrists to pull him into the bar, Michael pushing at his back. Ray gave up, not even bothering to struggle. What was the worst that could happen?

The bar was dimly lit and full of the rumble of people talking who didn't want their conversations heard. Ray carefully didn't pay attention to anyone as he and the guys pushed up to the bar, loudly saying their drink orders over each other. Ray rolled their eyes and waited for the frazzled bartender to finally get to him.

“And what do you‒ Ray?!”

Ray jumped, the bartender's face suddenly filling his entire awareness. Every muscle tensed as his breath punched out of his chest, as the surprise on the other guy's face quickly melted into anger.

“You're the one working with him?” There was no question who the ‘him’ was. Ray was already backing away. “You fuck, you're working with him after what he did to our crew?”  
He couldn't hear any more, everything was being drowned under a rush of noise and every fiber of his being screaming at once, ‘ _GET OUT_.’ So he did. 

He was out, on the street, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Had to get away, had to get safe. He could hear yelling behind him, pursuers calling his name but he couldn't stop, couldn't breathe couldn't think. He had to get away.

Voices in his ear, over the comms, Geoff asking what was happening. Ray clawed at his ear and knocked it loose, pitching it away as he kept going. It had to be the lads following him, but he didn't stop to check. He had to get away.

Safe. Safety. Somewhere to hide, to wait, somewhere no one else could get to. His eyes sighted on the building jutting over the skyline, angling his path towards it. The lads were falling behind, not able to keep up, but it didn't matter. It was their tower.

Ray burst through the lobby, ignoring the elevators for the access stairs. His adrenaline only got him up five flights before he had to stagger out, gasping and wincing at the stitch in his side, and over to the elevators. He waited, panic simmering just below the surface, for the compartment to arrive. When it did, he used the special access code to get to the top, to the penthouse. He could get up from there.

It was empty and dark, he'd beaten everyone back. Only half aware of what he was doing, Ray pushed through the door to the balcony, turning away from the view towards the walls. There was no ladder leading up, but he didn't need one. One deck chair and an ungraceful scramble and he was on the roof, the entire building and city beneath him. Like he was being pulled, Ray walked to the other edge until he was right there, right up on it, until the toes of his shoes were hanging out over nothing. 

Ray sniffed against the cutting wind. He knew, _knew_ , that being so up high wasn't any safer, was in fact the more dangerous place to be. But he could see for miles up there, no one could reach him without him knowing, and worst case scenario it was just a quick drop to the end. He'd spent a lot of time in places just like that. He got to his knees, then sat, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. 

The comforting fog enveloped him, saying so obviously that it didn't fucking matter.

They found him stupidly, impressively fast. Ray could hear the lads talking on the floor below, trying to find him. The words became clearer when Gavin walked out onto the balcony below.

“No, we know he's here, the alarm went off, dinnit? _I don't know,_ bloody what's-his-face was talkin’ to him, then he split!” 

“I don't get it.” That was Michael, joining Gavin on the balcony. “I thought they'd be happy to see each other, weren't they‒”

“No, shuddup!” Gavin cut him off. “Nothin’, no, I don't think that's it, but I don't know what‒ shit.” The sudden swear was aimed in his direction. Ray tilted his face to see Gavin, standing in just the right spot on the balcony and at just the right angle to see him on the edge of the roof. Gavin looked horrified, and Michael, when he joined him to see what he was looking at, looked equally shocked. 

“Yeah, we found him.” Michael told the listening audience. “He's hangin out on the edge of the roof, I don't‒ Hey Ray, uh, Brownman?” Michael called over to him. “You think maybe you could come over here, it sounds like the Vagabond is kinda freaking out a bit. You might wanna...I dunno, talk to him?”

The Vagabond. Ray squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his face back to his knees. Fuck, he’d fucked up, he'd run off without telling the Vagabond, he’d promised he would, but he didn't so of course he was freaking out. Guilt chewed at his insides. But what could he say without giving too much away, without making him think he'd fail? What could he even say that the Vagabond didn’t already know?

He didn't move. Michael went back to talking on the comms. “I don't know, he’s some guy, I heard he used to be part of that old crew here so Ray freaking knew him‒”

Michael cut off suddenly, a sudden worried look appearing on his face as he looked guiltily at Gavin and over to Ray. A cold feeling settled over his shoulders, and it wasn't because of the wind. He had a pretty good idea what they'd just figured out.

Their voices faded as they went back inside. Ray stayed put, staring out at the city, where who knew how many of his old crew still lurked. Fuck, he didn't even know the guy, he was just one of many members in the gang, he didn't even remember his name, but the guy had obviously known his. And he'd put it together in two seconds. How much longer would it take the Fakes to spell it out?

The black space in front of him was looking more and more tempting. 

More voices below. The sound of something metal against a wall. Then footsteps approaching from behind. Ray hoped, but they stopped too far away to be the Vagabond's, and too far away to give him a push. A sigh confirmed it was Geoff.

“Any way you could move back from there? For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.” The joking tone died in the cold air between them. Geoff sighed again. “Look, I don't wanna go jumping to conclusions and I know it's nonna my business, but I feel like I need to know what's goin’ on here, cause this is my city now. And I wanna know why the Vagabond ran off somewhere, and why Gav's not telling me shit either and you're up here bein’ a mopey gargoyle.”

Ray didn't say anything. What could he say that wouldn't spell out in all caps exactly what the Vagabond meant to him and how far he'd gone for Ray already? And how he was out there again, doing what he knew he could do to put Ray at ease?

“I gotta tell ya,” Geoff's voice sounded calm, but threatening. “What I do know, I don't like. We all know it was the Vagabond who went apeshit on the old crew here, but now I hear you were one of them. And somehow you lived, and now you're runnin around with the guy who killed all your people…” Geoff trailed off, but the implication was loud and clear. And incorrect. When Ray didn't bother to correct him Geoff continued. “And that's cold, man. Colder than I thought you were capable of. Like I can believe the Vagabond’s got no problem with this situation, easy. But I gotta admit, I kinda do.”

Goddamnit, it was that disappointed note in his voice that broke Ray. “It's backwards,” he said. His voice sounded strained in the thin air. 

“What is?” Geoff hesitantly asked.

“He didn't kill them all and spare me, and I didn't...pay him to take them all out or something like that.” That idea made him a little sick to his stomach, even after everything. “They tried to kill me first. They hired him.”

The admission sat there, like a turd on the dinner table. Ray could almost hear Geoff's mind racing, trying to put it together. He pulled his knees closer, like that would keep him secure. The 

“So you...what? Begged for your life? Bought him off?” The impressed tone of Geoff's voice was obvious, and Ray couldn't blame him. If that was the truth, it'd be really impressive, the idea what Ray had enough money or influence to turn the Vagabond on his employers. That was almost laughable. 

When Ray didn't answer, Geoff made an annoyed noise. “You two are the sneakiest motherfuckers I've ever had to deal with. I know that's _his_ whole deal, whatever, and Jack said I should just keep my trap shut and let you guys do your thing. But fuck it, I'm tired of this shit, and you two fucking around with us. I wanna know what’s going on.” He sounded tired, and gravel crunched as he obviously took a seat. “Out with it, Ray.” 

“I don't fucking know, okay?” The words were biting, tearing from his throat like he couldn't stand to have them there anymore. “I don't know why he let me live in the first place, or why he puts up with me so much. I don't even know what _I'm_ doing, I'm just with him ‘cause I don't know what else to do and I don't know how long that’s gonna last before I fuck it up.” Ray took a ragged breath, cold air stinging his eyes. “At least I know if I fuck up, I'll have someone who can put a bullet in my head and I don't have to worry about things anymore.”

The worst part about all of that was that most of it was true.

Geoff was silent. Ray felt sick to his stomach, like he'd really thrown up instead of just word vomiting. He shouldn't have said so much, it wasn't any of Geoff's business, but it was out there, and all he could do was wait for whatever happened next.

“I don't‒ fuck.” It sounded like Geoff didn't know either. “It's not‒ it doesn't have to be like that, buddy. You can stay with us, you can join our crew, figure something out so you don't have to keep sticking with him if you don't want.” Geoff's voice was almost pleasing, like he really did care.

Ray shook his head. “You don't want someone like me messing up your perfect little group here,” he said tiredly. “I'll fuck it up eventually, then you'll end up having to scrape my guts off the sidewalk, since none of you will have the decency to slit my throat.”

“Jesus, Ray, it's not like that, you don't‒” Geoff's voice was suddenly cut off by the sound of a boot on a railing. Deep in the black pit in his chest, Ray felt a surge of happiness. 

He heard Geoff get to his feet as another pair of footsteps thudded onto the roof. “Hey, look, I don't, I think maybe you should give him some space, don’t‒ okay! Okay, I'll go.” Probably got threatened with a knife or something. Ray could hear him leaving, but he stopped again. “Ray, just...think about what I said, alright? You got other options.”

Then it was quiet again as he climbed down and left, leaving Ray alone on the roof with the Vagabond. A death sentence for anyone else, except Ray. The Vagabond's steps came closer, then stopped right behind him. Then his legs joined his over the edge, framing Ray's with warmth. Strong arms wrapped around his middle, and that perfect chest was against his back. Ray could feel stubble on the back of his neck, so Ryan must have taken off the mask so he could be even closer. It was comforting.

After a long minute of enjoying the embrace, Ray finally asked the question he'd been wondering since he got to the roof. “Did you get him?”

Ryan nodded against the back of his neck, holding him closer. The tight fear in his chest finally faded, and Ray closed his eyes. He was safe.

One of Ryan's hands traveled upwards, forming a fist over his heart. It rubbed circles there, over and over, as his lips mouthed a word against the back of his neck.

_Sorry_

Ray's laugh was almost a sob. He raised his own hand to hold Ryan's, moving along with it. “Sorry I ran off without telling you,” he said, because that _mattered_ , no matter what Ryan's head shake was trying to say.

They were quiet again for a few more long minutes. Ray was sure the crew were waiting for them to come off the roof, one way or another, but something was poking at the back of his brain. It had been there for a while, but he finally felt like he needed an answer.

“Why didn't you kill me in the first place, that first time we met?” He felt Ryan's chest still, and his hands closed into fists in his clothes. Ray picked up on the idea he was probably thinking. “I'm not gonna swan dive off the roof or anything. I'm kinda...past that.” Overdramatics for Geoff aside. “I just wanna know.”

Part of him wondered if Ryan would even answer, if he even knew the answer. Everything he knew about his buddy said that there was no real logical reason he had let him live, so that meant the answer was probably some lapse he didn't like thinking about. Ray hoped, though, that he'd get his answer, and it looked to be that way when Ryan finally loosened a hand and pulled out his phone. He typed for long time before pressing it to his hand to read.

Ray's stomach swooped as he read the first line.

 **I was going to. The first time I left the apartment I was going to get my stuff and finish you off. I took your phone and hid it so you wouldn't call for help.** Ray vaguely remembered not being able to find his phone for a while, but it hadn't seemed important at the time. Just like how the realization that he'd been that close to his expected death didn't really matter anymore.

The next sentence made him laugh. **Then I got mugged. Had to deal with that. By the time I got back I thought you'd be gone, but you weren't, and it confused me. I couldn't figure out why you hadn't told anyone or cleared out so I thought maybe you thought I was a hallucination or something. I thought you were sick or hungover the first time**

That made sense ‒ in a way he was sick, just not the usual way. 

**But then you let me move in and I was even more confused when you just didn’t care. I didn't know if you knew who I was. If you didn't, you'd just let some random guy move in. If you did, then you knowingly let a murderer move in. Neither made sense. I thought I was going crazy.**

“You thought you were crazy,” Ray remarked, craning his head back to catch his eye. “Didn't occur to you that maybe I was nuts?” Ryan smiled softly and typed an answer.

 **By the time I knew you knew and learned who you were I was already attached.**

_Already attached,_ Ray mused, staring out at the city again. That kinda summed up the mess that was their life. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you got mugged.”

Ryan’s laugh was biting, and his arms squeezed so hard Ray felt his ribs ache. **I’m glad you didn’t put up with my dramatics**

Ray slipped his arms free so he could get a grip on Ryan’s, as much of a hug as he could get. Somehow, everything felt okay again. Against all the stupid odds, and all the stupid fuck-ups, they were both alive, both together, and nothing would be able to tear them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though Tumblr is currently imploding, this cockroach isn't leaving. I am [here](http://blasphemous-lies-and-deceit.tumblr.com/), follow if you're sticking around.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, a lot of this chapter was written a while ago - lots of these bits were bumped from Part 2 and 3 when I kept realizing this fic was going to end up being a lot bigger than I ever expected. Unfortunately Part 5 (which is going to be the last part, so help me) hasn't been started yet. Bear with me.

Ray woke up alone.

For one heart-stopping second he panicked, hand flailing out to the empty side of the bed. He was alone. Ryan was gone, why would he be gone? Was it some job he'd left him behind for? Or was he just gone because he was _gone_ and was never coming back for him‒

The smell of meat jerked Ray from his thoughts. His stomach growled, then settled. Right. Undefined but semi-serious relationship with a guy who did shit like wake up early to make breakfast. 

Ray slammed his face back into the pillow. Fuck his fucking stupid brain. He'd been fine, rocking it, rolling with whatever shit the world threw at him. It was good, then it was too good. He should have known better than to think he could have something like _friends_ , and a _partner_ , and _dopamine_ , and not expect it to all go to shit.

After the whole _thing_ on the rooftop they'd been avoiding Los Santos and the Fakes like the plague. They needed to keep their distance. He didn't even want to know what conclusions Geoff had drawn about them. It felt just like the old crap days, where he just stayed in bed and wondered about the repercussions of letting people in. But the whole stress of wondering what Geoff was thinking was making his brain freak out in the worst way, and everything else was just going to shit along with it. 

The partner thing was solid though. He could hear sizzling in the tiny kitchen of their cabin in the middle of nowhere, smell something sugary and delicious, and if he was lucky Ryan would be doing all that cooking shirtless. He would deliver in bed and it would be delicious, and Ray could cuddle against his side and start to feel better again. That's all he wanted. 

Ryan finally did appear, looking like perfection with those abs and arms and plates of pancakes. Ray smiled up at him, but the return smile dropped off Ryan's face as he stared at him. He got it, like always. He set the plates on the tiny table next to the bed and crawled in next to him. Ray scooched over, sighing as Ryan's hands came up to frame his face, stroking his cheeks gently. Ryan's eyes scanned over him, like he was trying to pick his brain, and instead of feeling bad about it, Ray almost felt grateful.

One of Ryan's hands pulled back to point some fingers. _Are you okay?_ Ray shrugged, because comparatively, he felt like shit, but not the worst he'd ever felt.

“How hard would it be to get me better meds?” He finally asked. Ryan's eyebrows furrowed as he looked off into the middle distance, like he was mentally going over his request. Ray waited as he got his phone out, flipped through something, and answered back. 

**Middling difficulty. Do you really think you need stronger?**

“I mean, I'm no fucking doctor, so…” Ray trailed off, shrugging and rolling on his back. He knew the meds wouldn't magically make him better, they were just supposed to give him energy, but that seemed to have stalled. “Do ya think it'll help?”

**I think talking to someone might be better**

“Well…” Ray trailed off with a significant look, and Ryan smiled slightly as he turned to get their food. Besides Ryan, he had no one to talk to who wouldn't turn him in or shoot him in the head. And Ryan already knew all his shit.

Ray was distracted by the appearance of the food. “What is this?” he asked, pointing at the syrup, which was bubbly and caramel colored and smelled like pure sugar. Not the usual maple he was used to.

**My grandpa's special syrup. Top secret family recipe**

“Fuck me,” Ray said as he took a bite. It was really sugary, but amazing with the bacon and pancakes. “I am a big fan of your special syrup.”

Ryan snorted at him, and then it was quiet as they ate. Ray relaxed, the constant pressure in his brain settling. His energy felt like it was coming back with every bite, even though the sugar threatened to crash him later. It didn't matter, it was delicious and something Ryan had made just for him. He would take it over anything.

A buzzing text disturbed the silence. Ryan stuffed a piece of pancake in his mouth and checked his phone. Ray leaned over to look as well, and groaned when he saw the emoji in the contact bar. Geoff again.

Ryan's face was blank as he switched back to his note app and typed. **They must really like you to keep reaching out like this**

“More like they just want you to kick ass for them,” Ray said, feeling grumpy as he used his fork to scoop up leftover syrup. Even though they'd been avoiding the west coast, that hadn't stopped Geoff from sending job invites every few days. It was kinda nice, in a weird way, but it still put him on edge because he _knew_ it was because they felt bad for him.

 **They're asking for both of us** Ryan's words asserted. **You're the one who made friends**

“Yeah and look where that got me.” Ray avoided the look Ryan gave him. “Don't look at me like that, you know I fucked up and now Geoff thinks I'm pathetic or something.”

 **More like he thinks you're dealing with a lot, and he's worried about you. Like I am, except he probably doesnt want to stick his dick in you to make you feel better**

Ryan's unexpected joke made him snort. Ryan took his plate and kept typing. **I know this is unhelpful but you’re overthinking things. They’re just being friends which is what you wanted so you should let them in**

“But…we don't want them thinking we’re so close.” Ray leaned over, resting his head against Ryan's chest so he could watch him type. Ryan was right, it had been too easy to fall back into his old ways, and the crew wasn't helping by being so friendly and fun. But they were still criminals, and still a threat, and Ray had shown them that the Vagabond would do anything for him. They would see _him_ as a weakness, something to be exploited, and things would only go badly from there.

 **We should be fine. As long as we don't start holding hands and making out they won't think we're a couple.** Ray couldn't stop the dreamy smile that appeared on his face at the thought. **Let me worry about it. I'm enough of a ruthless asshole for both of us.** He was right, and Ray knew it. Ryan knew what he was doing. And maybe he was right and they could trust the Fakes a bit more. They'd had plenty of opportunities to fuck them over and hadn't yet, so that had to mean something. 

The next sentence was typed very hesitantly. **I like seeing you have friends, lets me live vicariously since I can't be friends with them**

Ouch. Ray winced at the hurt that stabbed his chest. He pressed his face harder into his chest and wrapped his arms around his sides. “Dude,” he said sympathetically.

 **I know I have to keep acting like an asshole, and I’ll be honest I don’t really want to be close to anyone besides you but** Ray knew what he meant, even if he didn't type it out. He couldn't afford to get so close, or his brain wouldn't let him, or any one of his other issues would kick in and make him miserable. He ran his hand up and down Ryan's back, over and over. He wasn't the only one dealing with shit, but at least they were dealing with it together.

 **But I haven't had anyone close since I got royally fucked over.** Ryan felt very still under his hands. **I wasn't kidding when I said you're the first person I've trusted in a long time. I missed acting normal around other people and not having to worry about getting hurt again**

“I know.” Ray scooted closer, so he was more properly in Ryan's lap. “And I'm so fucking lucky you let me in, and I'm so happy you did.” There was the other thing, the one he couldn't say yet, but he knew Ryan knew that. “And I know you'll get it figured out one day.” His arms come up to loop around Ryan's neck, slipping through his hair. “It may not be with them, but I know you can do whatever the fuck you get into your head to do, and I know you can do this.”

Ryan didn't bother to type an answer for him, just pulled him close and kissed him deeply. So deep and perfect Ray never wanted to stop.

When Ryan finally pulled back, he sent a reply to Geoff. Curled against his side in a warm happy daze, Ray didn't even allow himself to give a shit. It wasn't like they couldn't kill all of them if things went to shit.

~*~

“ _Oh won't you please take me hoooooooooooooooooo‒_ ” Jack hit the note and held it, audible even over the roar of the engines and the thud of the props. The energy and music were infectious, and Ray was right there with her, singing along as he hung out the cargo door as they careened wildly over the city. He looked fucking badass too, even if his hood refused to stay up. It was hard not to feel awesome when shooting things out of a chopper.

Beneath them, it was easy to follow the path of destruction the rest of the crew was blazing. And it was literally blazing because Michael had given the Vagabond a flamethrower and told him to go nuts. But it was okay, because Gavin was driving a firetruck and having the time of his life.

Ray had felt better, immediately, after getting back to the city and the crew. As per fucking usual, his fucking brain had blown everything out of proportion. Things were fine with the crew, no one apparently gave a shit about his meltdown and hadn't gone announcing to the world about Ray being the catalyst for the old crew's destruction. They were still friendly, still assholes in the best way. He didn't have to keep distrusting them, because the Vagabond had that covered. It all worked out.

“Fuck, hang on.” Jack abruptly jerked the copter into a tight turn, making Ray scramble to hang on to the handlebar and his gun. They began dropping like the wildest roller coaster, leaving Ray's heart somewhere in his throat. The fuck was she doing? Another sharp turn, and the top of his head hit the roof with a ringing thud, making Ray swear and drop to the floor. 

When he blinked, one side of his vision was alarmingly blurry and the rest was concerningly fuzzy. “Oh fuck.” He frantically patted his mask, his hoodie, the floor of the chopper. No wet plastic met his fingers. “Fucking hell.”

“You okay back there?” Jack asked distractedly. “Cause I need you to take these assholes out please.” Ray swallowed and straightened. Fuck it. He only needed one eye to shoot anyway. 

“Yeah, give me a sec.” The lens remaining was in his non-dominant eye, the one he needed to close in order to sight in. Quickly he pinched it out and popped it in his other eye. His eyes may be shit but at least they were more or less evenly shit. He pressed his finger to his lid, trying to quell the burning and push it into place dry. It wasn't exact, but it was good enough.

“Okay,” he sighed, closing his naked eye so he could see properly again. “Let's get this road on the show.”

Once he started firing, he didn't any issues. He knew exactly how to compensate for the scope and the motion of the copter. It wasn't easy, especially with the crazy way Jack kept flying, but nothing he couldn't handle. The constant cheers from the crew were very encouraging. 

The job ended in a blaze of glory, driving and flying off into the sunset. Ray tried to embrace the sheer exhilaration with them, but he was endlessly tormented with the wonky contact and keeping his other eye closed. He could already feel the headache building. Fuck everything, he hated the contacts to begin with, stupid expensive pieces of plastic. At least his glasses had never bailed on him mid-heist, but only because he never wore them on jobs.

Jack landed them right in the backyard of the safehouse, because why not? They were getting big, almost too big for the city or anyone to handle, nearly to the point of being able to do whatever they wanted. It would almost be impressive, if he didn't know how ridiculous they all really were. 

“Nice shooting, buddy!” Jack cheered as she climbed out of the cockpit. Ray gave her a thumbs up as he stumbled onto the grass, nearly tripping over his lack of depth perception. All grins and happiness, Jack wrapped her arm over his shoulders, pulling him inside to the rest of the crew. Everyone else was already there, even if they all appeared one-dimensional.

“Dude, that was awesome!” Geoff declared, holding his hand up for a high five. 

Ray returned it, grimacing to keep his eye closed. “Would've been better if I could fucking see straight,” he grumbled, pushing past him to where he left his sniper case. Pushing the mask off his face, Ray pinched out the offending contact and flicked it off somewhere. Immediate relief, even as his eye flooded with tears to soothe the itchiness. He felt so much better.

Nearly blind, he was still able to make out the Vagabond's hand reaching into his case for him, pulling out his spare glasses and handing them over. There was an unasked question, obviously, that he answered assuringly. “I lost a contact when Jack swerved, had to do all that shooting with one eye.”

“Wait, you wear glasses?” Ray slipped said glasses on and turned to face them. They were all staring at him in shock, at his glasses and uncovered face. He felt like it should feel more monumental or something, but it wasn't. It just wasn't that significant to him, not like it was for the Vagabond.

He shrugged, playing it off like the no big deal it was. “I have to if I want to see,” he said nonchalantly. Beside him, he could feel amusement radiating off of the Vagabond. Ray shot him a smirk like he was gloating about being able to take his mask off, and got a wink that only he could see in response.

“But dude, your face?” Gavin pointed out worriedly, like there was something wrong with it. Michael and Jack seemed to be over it, at least, but Geoff was eyeing him, or more specifically the Vagabond, like they were both about to go off.

“I know, I'm not hideously deformed like the Vagabond is, I can get away‒ ow!” He’d got an elbow to the ribs for that comment, like he expected. That did it, that got the smile back on Gavin's face and Geoff's shoulders to relax. It was fine, that was something he could trust them with. Even if everything else would have to stay hidden.

~*~

“You're a fucking lunatic!” Ray was grinning so hard his face hurt, and he honestly wished he was allowed to get his phone out and record. Because he would forever need the visual of Ryan lipsyncing his fucking heart out and headbanging to some Eighties ballad as they sped eighty-five down the interstate.

Ryan was grinning at him like a maniac too, long hair laying loose around his shoulders from the headbanging. Ray had no idea what brought it on (it wasn't even that great of a song) but he didn't fucking care. Ryan was happy and ridiculous and he'd have to be some kind of heartless asshole not to fall in love with him.

His thigh buzzed. “Shit,” Ray muttered as he dragged his phone out. It was Geoff, because of course it was. Most of the jobs they were getting lately were from him, and they were taking them, because most other jobs just sucked. Ray reached for the radio to turn down the noise, but Ryan slapped his hand away. “Fucker,” Ray hissed at him. Ryan just grinned evilly as he answered the call.

“Hey Brownm‒ Jesus.” Geoff could hear the music, obviously, even with the phone pressed to Ray's face. Now Ray was grinning with Ryan. “What are you guys doing?” 

“The Vagabond moonlights as a roadie when he's not on jobs,” Ray lied easily. Ryan slapped his hand over his mouth so Geoff couldn't hear his snort of laughter.

“Okay, very funny,” Geoff grumbled. Ryan finally turned down the music, since it sounded like the song was done, and Ray put his phone on speaker. “So if you guys aren't busy, we got a job for you.”

“And you didn't just text us because…” Ray prompted.

“Because…” Geoff paused dramatically. Or maybe something else was up, but it sounded like it was for the drama. “Cause this is it. The big one.”

“The one we've _all_ been waiting for!” That had to be Michael, yelling in the background of wherever Geoff was.

“Shuddup. Yeah, this is the real deal, we're gonna take over Los Santos for good. Be the new big bosses in town.” Geoff sounded confident, but Ray shared a look with Ryan and saw the same uncertainty on his face.

“And you want us involved? Seriously?” Ray questioned.

“Well, yeah. Poetic cinema and all that shit.” Geoff chuckled to himself. His voice was back to serious when he spoke again. “But yeah, seriously, it's not just that we’re calling in favors and hiring whoever we can get our hands on. We like having you two working with us, not just cause you're good at this shit, but you guys are fun! Why wouldn't we want you around?”

“And!” There was a muffled scuffling before Michael's voice took over. “If we get you guys first, then the other guys won't be able to hire you to take us down.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Ray tried to sound uncaring and indifferent, like that was the real reason he was expecting, instead of focusing on the light warmth in his chest. Ryan was looking kinda mushy too, which was not fucking good. “So listen, it's not like he's some kinda expert or nothin, but are you gonna let this guy take charge or whatever? Cause you know he’s got experience with this shit.” Ryan shot him a skeptical look, which Ray chose to ignore. He knew his buddy's skills.

“Oh yeah, totally.” Geoff at least didn't seem to think it was a bad idea. Or maybe he was just excited. “So you're in?”

“Sure, why not.” Ray didn't even have to glance over to confirm. “When's this shitshow start?”

“As soon as you get here.” 

At Geoff's words, Ryan abruptly slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel. Ray crashed to the door with the momentum, swearing as his phone flew from his grip. By the time he straightened and pulled himself together, Ryan was facing the other way on the empty road, heading the way they came, which was the same direction as Los Santos.

“You motherfucker.” Ryan just kept grinning, shoulders bouncing with silent giggles. Ray rescued his phone from the floor. “We’ll see you in a bit if this asshole doesn't kill me first.”

He could hear Geoff laughing from the other end as he hung up.

~*~

“Welcome to fucking hell,” Geoff greeted dryly as he opened the door. 

“Oh cool, I've been there before,” Ray shot back, already walking past him. There were a lot of people crammed into Geoff's apartment, and they were all staring at them. A curl of anxiety rose in his stomach, especially at the sight of so many strange people looking at his bare face. He put a grin on his face, trying not to let it show, even though he felt like shrinking into his hoodie to hide. 

Behind him, he could almost feel how the Vagabond tensed up, no doubt feeling the same thing. That had to be the real reason the Vagabond wore the mask ‒ so he didn't have to deal with people _looking at him_.

“Oh cool. I wondered if you guys would show up,” a woman to their left spoke up with a smile. Ray glanced over, and did a double take when recognized the red hair. It was Red Cat.

“Holy shit,” he said in surprise. The Vagabond nodded at her and brushed past them, leaving him to make small talk like an asshole. “Didn't know you'd be here.”

Cat shrugged, but there was a pleased smile on her face. “I've gone private now. Geoff offered me a lot of money to get me to be his _personal supplier_ ,” she said with an exaggerated look.

“Well, shit, lucky you.” Ray knew he sounded kinda sarcastic, but he was actually kinda happy for her. He'd heard through the grapevine that some shit had gone down for her on the east coast, some dude with a weird hat and cane combo that had it out for her, so it was good she had got away and wound up with Geoff. And there were definitely some kind of looks being sent over towards the living room, where he could hear Michael's distinctive laugh. So that was something. 

“Wait, Lindsay, you know Ray‒ I mean Brownman?” Jack asked curiously as she wandered over. She had two solo cups and handed one to Cat while offering the other to Ray. He shook his head, slightly repulsed by the overwhelming smell of beer he could detect up. “Was he one of your customers?”

“He wasn't, the Vagabond was,” Red Cat, or Lindsay since they didn't believe in aliases apparently, took a sip of her drink. “Met Ray here when he and the Vagabond came in on a date.”

“It wasn't‒” Ray was cut off when Jack started choking on her own drink at Lindsay's comment. “That wasn't a fucking date,” he insisted. By their standards it totally had been, but that wasn't any of their business.

Lindsay grinned at him and winked overdramatically. “Sure, it wasn't,” she said fake soothingly as she patted Jack's back. “By the way, totally held onto those knives he was playing with. You guys can have them if you want.”

“Yeah, that's exactly what the Vagabond needs. More knives.” Ray snarked dryly. Even though he was slightly pissed off ‒ her jokes were too close to truth for comfort ‒ it felt good, almost fun, to be joking around with other people. It would make sense that Geoff's people would be the kind of people he'd want to hang around with. He could already hear the kind of loud argument that was just for fun coming from another room.

Jack, thank God, decided to take his elbow and steer him away, pointing out the people. “There's our B Team,” she pointed towards a group of young-looking people standing by the drinks. “That's Andy, he bailed and followed Michael out here from out East. We picked up Kdin from Texas, she’s brilliant at behind-the scenes shit, same with Matt ‒ he's the guy that looks like a bum. The twins are around here somewhere, they're almost as crazy as Gav. Hopefully the Vagabond won't gut them for being annoying.”

“Nah, he's used to kids. He used to be a pediatric nurse before he started the Vagabond shit,” Ray made up on the fly. “He got fired for sticking kids to the ceiling with static.”

Jack almost choked on her drink again by laughing. Ray grinned and wandered off to find the Vagabond. There was a lot of noise and commotion coming from the living room, and when he poked his head in he saw why. Michael and Gavin stood next to a pair of guys who looked eerily alike while also totally different, calling out suggestions and comments to a shorter man in the middle of the room. He was obviously drunk, but that wasn't stopping him as he very determinedly stacked all the couch cushions together. He wasn't doing very well, despite all the “help” the rest of the guys kept shouting. 

The Vagabond was standing watch at a distance with his arms crossed and his posture firmly in ‘bemused’ mode. Ray slid into place next to him, fighting down a laugh. “So…what's happening here?” he asked.

“Jeremy's gonna win a hundred bucks is what's gonna happen,” the short guy, apparently Jeremy, answered. He hoisted the cushions in arms, holding them in front of his chest. “Okay, so, if you throw it right in the middle there, it should be fine,” he said with a grunt. “I don't think it'll kill me.”

“Throw what?” Ray asked, but his suspicions were answered when the Vagabond pulled a knife out of his pocket. “Dude, you're not serious, _are you_?”

Behind the mask, Ray saw his eyes widen as he lifted his eyebrows. Yes, he was. 

“Are you crazy?!” he asked. “Don't answer that, I know you are. But you're actually serious?” He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not. No one else seemed concerned, cheering Jeremy on as the Vagabond got in position. He gave Ray another look, probably trying to be reassuring, but Ray wasn't having it. “Dude, come on, we just got here. Can you save the murder until after dinner?”

“Nah, it'll be fine.” Gavin sounded reassuring, but also drunk. And it was easy for him to say that, he wasn't the one facing the knife. The bill clasped in his fingers indicated he was the one who made the bet. “If Jeremy loses a finger it's his own fault.” His phone was already up, no doubt recording the potential murder about to happen.

Ray waffled between staying put or getting out of the way. If he stayed put, he was pretty sure the Vagabond wouldn't throw the knife at him (he hoped) but that would put him in an awkward spot. Besides, if anyone could pull it off, it was the Vagabond. He shrugged and stepped off to the side. “Just promise you won't kick us out if he fucks up.” He didn't think it would get that bad, but hey, worse things had happened. 

The room quieted. Jeremy struggled with his load, trying to hold steady. The Vagabond squared up, rolling his shoulders and raising the knife, ready to throw. Ray held his breath in anticipation. 

“The _fuck_ are you _doin’_?!” Geoff's voice cut through the scene. The Vagabond quickly hid the knife behind his back as everyone broke into nervous laughs. Geoff looked both mad and exasperated, which seemed to be his standard mood with dealing with his crew. 

“It's just a bet, Geoff, its fine,” Jeremy answered, even as he lost his grip on the cushions, dropping them all on the floor.

“No.” Geoff pointed a finger at him, then at the Vagabond, who tried to look perfectly innocent under the mask. “No,” he said again, more emphatically, before finally pointing at Gavin and his shit-eating grin. “ _No_ ,” he said for the final time, before stomping out.

“Well, he sure showed you,” Ray snarked as Michael groaned.

“Dude, it would have been fine. The cushions are thick enough,” he grumbled as he gathered them up, putting them back in their spots.

“Like Jeremy's head!” Gavin joked, and dodged out of the way when Jeremy turned on him angrily. “He’s new,” he informed Ray, like it wasn't obvious. “He was real excited to join up, you know,” Gavin said slyly, a shit-eating smile on his face. “To start working with you guys. Since he's such a big fan of yours.” 

“Hey! Shut up!” Jeremy yelled, stumbling and pointing angrily at Gavin. “You shut up, Free!” 

“Wait, what? He's a fan?” Ray asked eagerly, detecting a note of panic in Jeremy's voice, and noting the growing looks of evil on Gavin and Michael's faces.

“Well, that's the whole reason you joined, isn't it?” Michael teased, “‘cause you wanted to meet your heroes, remember?” 

Ray snorted so hard he almost hurt himself. “Bullshit,” he laughed. “Are you like one of those guys from the internet who’s so fucking obsessed with him?” The immediate guilty look that crossed Jeremy’s face said everything. “Oh my God, _you are_?”

“Oh _no_!” Jeremy groaned as Michael and Gavin started laughing, throwing his head back and covering his face in his arms. “How do you know about that?!”

“Because it's the fucking internet!” Ray couldn't decide if he should be pissed or to just laugh about it. “You guys lose your shit every time he breathes, you think we wouldn't notice?”

“So wait, does he know about it?” Michael asked through his gasps for air, pointing at the Vagabond. Ray could see his confusion even through the mask.

“Oh, no. No, he doesn't know.” The Vagabond’s head tilted their way, so Ray scrambled to answer the look. “Dude, trust me, you don't wanna know. Okay? You really don't wanna know.” He didn't think the Vagabond would do anything to Jeremy, but better not test it while the the new guy was drunk and unable to defend himself. 

The Vagabond gave him a considering look, so Ray smiled encouragingly. “It's fine. Totally fine. And you're not gonna be an asshole about it, right?” he asked over his shoulder at Jeremy, who frantically shook his head.

“No, I shut my blog down. That was one of Geoff's rules, if I wanted to join the crew, I couldn't keep running it.”

“Fucking good enough then,” Ray decided. It was weird, but Jeremy seemed like an okay guy, so hopefully it would be fine. 

Thankfully, the other two guys, who had to be the twins Jack had spoken of, distracted the rest of the lads with some other stupid idea. While they were distracted, Ray moved to the Vagabond's side, gently leaning against him. Not obvious enough to be noticed, just enough to put pressure on his shoulder. “Nice to see you made a friend.” He was joking, but there was a truth there. The Vagabond didn’t threaten just anyone with knives and let them live.

The Vagabond tilted his head towards him, and Ray knew the smile was under the mask. He was happy for the guy ‒ not a lot of people got his sense of humor (God, did he know that). Even if he was a fan, it was good that Jeremy didn’t get freaked out over it. He seemed pretty cool, which made sense if Geoff wanted him part of the crew.

Ray learned the other reason soon after. Even drunk, Jeremy was stupidly good at games. Turned out, so did most of the others in the cast of characters Geoff assembled. Ray almost felt like accusing him of getting them all together just to have a massive multi-player gaming night, but there was the lingering undercurrent of danger. Geoff tentatively questioned the Vagabond about the best plans, and every time they took a snack break they also took time to check out the ammo and supplies Lindsay brought. They didn't stay the night, fucking off to a hotel so Ryan could take off the mask and relax, but Ray and the Vagabond were there bright and early the next day. Ready to give Los Santos another good fucking over.

~*~

“No, they’re these Icelandic troll dolls,” Ray exaggerated, egged on by the baffled amusement that was radiating out of the Vagabond’s mask. “Real sheep’s wool hair and fancy glass eyes‒” 

“What the fuck?” Michael’s laugh-strained question broke in over the comms, but Ray didn’t let that stop him.

“-and this little old lady ripped him off, totally robbed him of his life’s work and passion, and that’s why he’s like this, okay? Blame the Icelandic troll doll lady, she’s the reason the Vagabond snapped and this is what we’re dealing with.”

“I wish to God this was true.” Jeremy genuinely sounded longing. Probably having his dreams come true, hearing Ray make up backstories for his idol.

“It’s too stupid to make up,” Ray asserted. The Vagabond shook his head, one hand propping up his chin. If it was true, or even if he was the kind of person who got pissed off about his bullshit, Ray knew he’d probably be dead. But he felt very secure making up stupid stories about him, because he was very confident that if he ever truly did stumble upon the truth, the crew wouldn’t know because of the previous lies. It all worked out, and Ray got to make them laugh. It felt good.

“I’m gonna wanna see proof,” Geoff asserted, “but after the job, okay? Gavin are you fucking done yet?” The whole reason Ray had enough time to construct a whole elaborate bullshit story was because there was something technological going wrong on Gavin’s end, and they were all waiting impatiently at their start points for him to figure it out. They'd been causing chaos all week, hitting all the points the Vagabond had pointed out that would topple any contenders, and it had been going so well. Up until Gavin started having his issues. 

“Yeah, you know, I’d love to started by now, except this _flipping_ laptop is a fucking piece of _shit_!” Gavin sounded eye-wateringly British when he was mad. Ray snorted at the sounds of angry tapping that came over the comm. He knew that sound well.

“Well what'd you get it for?” Ray egged him on, even as he heard Michael mutter for him to shut the fuck up.

“Because _someone_ said it'd be a good operating system, but it's not smegging _working_.” Gavin sounded accusatory, and Geoff's tired sigh confirmed where it was being directed to. “All my shit is corrupted now, it's gonna take _weeks_ to decrypt and sort it all out‒”

“Look, I said it'd be good‒” Geoff started angrily.

“This is not good, Geoffrey!” Gavin cut in. “The whole bloody thing is frozen, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?!”

“I said it'd be good for games!” Geoff yelled over him. “You don't ever listen to me! Why would you even try to use it on your hacker shit, you fucking idiot‒”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ray saw movement. He turned, saw the phone in the Vagabond's hand and the look through the eye holes of his mask, and sucked in a breath. “Oh no,” he moaned dramatically as the fingers started flying.

“What?” Jack sounded alarmed, like there was something actually wrong, but Ray didn't spill. He waited until he first message was sent, and the Vagabond went to work on the second. A grin was growing on his face. He knew exactly what was going on.

“Oh no!” Now he let the humor out in his voice. “Gavin, you have angered the Vagabond. He's so mad he's _texting_. There are _words_ being sent in your direction.”

“What?” Gavin sounded honestly befuddled under the barking sounds of Michael's laugh. “Look, I'm serious, this system is crap, the whole thing, I'm gonna just chuck this off the bloody _roof_ ‒”

“Can we fucking drop this please?” Geoff cut him off before he could get going again. “Not like we don't got a job to do here!”

“Yeah, save it until we get back to base and the Vagabond can bust out the laptop,” Ray suggested. “He's much faster typing, he’ll write your ass a manifesto on how wrong you are.”

“What the fuck, man, you know computers?” Jeremy sounded surprised, and Ray didn't blame her. It wasn't exactly confidential information, but it wasn't really known.

“Dude has got _opinions_ about computers.” The Vagabond gave him a deadpan look as he finished the text, and Ray grinned in his face. “Don’t look at me like that, you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about. Remember when you hacked into the government and replaced everyone's headshots with cows?”

“Seriously guys, shelve it,” Geoff cut over them. “Gav stop being a little bitch and go get your other laptop, we can hold here for a while.” Ray joined the rest of the crew in a groan. “Won't be the first time I've had to delay a job for your ass.”

“Oh, yeah, no, how many times we had to wait after you shit your pants?” Gavin shot back. Ray almost fell over laughing. 

The heist took longer than anticipated, so it was well after dark by the time they all got back to the penthouse. Ray and the Vagabond walked in together, and the other guy immediately went over to Gavin and started making grabby hands at his laptop.

Gavin looked confused. “Dude, what?”

“I told you, he has opinions about computers,” Ray translated his actions. Once he had his hands on it, the Vagabond immediately started doing something smart with it, tapping at the keys quickly. “Probably’s gonna make it his personal mission to fix it.” Ray grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge and settled on the couch. He knew the signs, the distracted look coming from the mask. That would be his whole focus for a good while.

Sure enough, after some very aggressive rounds of a fighting game with Michael and Jeremy, the Vagabond presented the laptop back to Gavin with a flourish. Gavin's delighted squeak said it all. Even Ray could see it was operating better.

“Oh my God!” Gabin squealed. “How did you do that?” The Vagabond shrugged, like it was nothing, but Ray could easily imagine the pleased look on his face.

“There, you happy now?” Geoff grumped good-naturedly. There was serious gratefulness on his face as he looked at the Vagabond. “Thanks a lot, man. Now we don't have to listen to him bitch about it.” He stood with a sigh, glancing over at Jack before back to them. “It’s late. Do you guys want to just stay the night or something?”

Ray caught the hitch in the Vagabond's shoulders, the slight tightness, and knew the answer. “Sorry, we actually got another job tomorrow,” he lied easily, standing as well and heading towards the door. “We’ll let you know the next time we're in town, okay?”

Everyone sounded disappointed as they left, but Ray met the Vagabond’s eye as they got in the elevator, and he knew they had dodged a bullet. It was one thing to hang out and do heists with them, but having a sleepover was just a little too much. Who knew what kind of nonsense they’d get up to? 

~*~

Some jobs were good. Easy, simple, stand-around-and-look-intimidating kinds of jobs. Ray could almost say they were easy enough to do in his sleep, except for the constant danger and the knowledge of one fuck-up could bring the whole thing down. But still, those were good jobs.

Other jobs…

“On your fucking left!!” Ray screamed as loud as he could. The Vagabond turned and fired into the crowd that had formed behind his back. Some of them were the guys employing them, but things were rapidly reaching Category Five Shitshow levels, so it didn't fucking matter. 

It had been a stupid plan to start with, heisting a jewelry store owned by the wife of the police chief, but things had fallen apart impressively fast even considering that. The Vagabond was on the inside, keeping by the windows so Ray could cover him as much as he could, the heist plan long abandoned. Ray kept sprinting from one ledge to another, firing at approaching cops, keeping the Vagabond's route clear. That was the only thing that mattered.

The Vagabond finished firing and looked through the broken window at him. Ray could almost see the “fuck it” on his face before he jerked his head. Ray nodded, slinging the sniper over his shoulder and scrambling down the ladder as the Vagabond vanished from view. There was nothing wrong with bailing as long as they saved their own asses.

He hit the ground with a thud that rattled his knees, already sprinting towards where the car was waiting. He wanted to wait until he had the Vagabond in sight, but it was his job to get the escape car started. They had to get the fuck out of there.

Ray turned the corner, and had maybe two seconds to realize there was a guy waiting there. “Shit!” He twisted, ready to run back the other way, but then something bit him in the ass. 

_“Fuck!”_ He hit the ground with a thud, shoulder absorbing most of the impact, but it still made the injury spike with pain. He didn't even have time to scramble up before a boot was driven into his ribs. All the air left his lungs in a painful gasp, and he didn't even have a catch to catch his breath before he was hit again. Ray curled in on himself, trying to protect the painful bits, not even paying attention to the asshole mocking him. _Goddammit, get up_ he tried ordering himself, but his leg wasn't working and he couldn't breathe because his ribs had to be broken and oh fuck, there was the click of a bullet in a chamber, stilling his lungs, he was dead and it was the worst way to go.

The bang rang through his ears, but the pain and darkness he expected didn't follow. He heard something hit the ground, and then someone was turning him onto his back. The Vagabond's mask appeared over him, a worried look in his wide blue eyes. 

Ray stared at him, feeling pain radiating down his leg in white-hot bursts. He was down, and they were in the middle of a firefight, so there was really one thing to do.

“Just go,” Ray begged, just go so at least one of them could make it out alive. The Vagabond jerked in place, like he was just about to do so, but he didn't. Instead the idiot bent and picked him up, and the pain surged and subsided and Ray found himself hanging over the Vagabond's shoulder as he ran for their lives.

Ray gritted his teeth as he clung to the Vagabond’s jacket. “Goddamn fucking shit--holy fuck goddammit fuck,” he hissed as every step sent a new throb of pain through his ribs. Ray swore like that would make his lungs stop aching, like the blasting pain in his leg would go away, like it could make the Vagabond run faster and they could make it out alive.

“Gun,” Ray demanded, and got, so he was ready when their pursuers came after them. Despite the ache of the Vagabond's shoulder against his ribs, and the pyre of pain that was his leg, he was still the best damn shot he could be. He fired down the alley, again and again, covering the Vagabond's ass. Then they were out in the open, in the surprisingly cool and quiet air, thudding across the open space away from the buildings. No one immediately came after them, but it was only a matter if time. 

Ray was sure the Vagabond wanted to be gentle, but he was pretty much dumped on the ground behind the car. Pain slammed through his leg and up his ribs, and his brain took an abrupt nosedive. The blackness returned around the edges and his stomach roiled, overwhelming every other thought and feeling. Fuck, he couldn't pass out yet, the Vagabond might need him, they had to get away. When he could finally focus again, he dimly saw the Vagabond had the trunk open, digging around frantically. Finally he straightened, a steely look coming from the mask, and pulled out a _fucking rocket launcher_.

Ray stared in disbelief for a second before occurred to him the launcher was loaded and up against the Vagabond's shoulder. He slammed his hands against his ears a second before the missile took off with a roar. The impact blast rattled the ground, the building quickly consumed by the destruction. The Vagabond reloaded and fired again, twice, before he finally lowered the launcher. There was nothing left that wasn't on fire, and that included anyone in the vicinity. Nothing ever lasted when the Vagabond got pissed.

Neither of them moved. The Vagabond glared at what had to be the ruin of the building, lit up by the light of destruction, hands fisted at his sides. Ray could only guess what he was thinking, how they had gotten _too fucking close_. He'd be right there with him with the petrified realization, except everything hurt too fucking much to feel anything except pain.

Ray swallowed against the sensations trying to make him pass out. “No kill like overkill, huh?” His joke felt dry in his throat, and the Vagabond whipped his head around over to stare at him. His shoulders slumped, and the rocket launcher fell to the ground with a hollow thud as he knelt down next to him. Ray couldn't help the flinch that came when Ryan's hands reached out, but they were gentle, so gentle, settling on his cheeks as the forehead of the mask rested against his. He could hear Ryan's breaths through the plastic.

“It’s okay,” Ray whispered, even though certain parts of his body were saying it was very much _not_ okay. “I'm still alive.”

His assurance finally got the Vagabond moving. He ditched the mask and jacket, chucking them in the trunk along with the fucking rocket launcher and Ray's sniper. His arms were much more gentle when he loaded Ray into the front seat and took off. Ray ducked as they drove past the cops and emergency vehicles, whimpering at the pain in his ribs. The adrenaline was fading fast, and shock was making itself known, nausea crawling up his throat and sending shivers down his arms. Even Ryan's hand clutching softly at his didn't help.

Thank God their hotel was set away from the road, and was already enough of a dump that it wouldn't matter how much of a mess they made. Ryan laid him on the bed, using a kind of gentleness Ray was totally unused to ‒ for the current situation at least. Ray smushed his face into the pillow, whimpering when Ryan pulled the blankets away from under him. He was a aware of the flurry of activity, Ryan grabbing towels and the first aid kit and shit, but really all he could feel was the burning in his ass, overwhelming even the ache in his ribs. God, if he’d known it would hurt this bad to be shot, he would have done better to avoid it. 

Ryan's hand was on his shoulder, stroking in a way that was probably trying to be comforting. Ray tilted his head enough to see his face, all the worry so evident there. “Hey, I'll live,” Ray assured him. “Just get it fucking over with. End my suffering, please.” 

The dramatics didn't get the reaction he wanted. Ryan looked fucking devastated, eyes so wide and so blue. He tried to pull out his phone, but Ray's arm shot out and whapped at him. “Seriously dude, spare me the apology right now. I want this thing out of my ass, then you can grovel and shit.” 

That time his jokes worked. Ryan's smile was still worried, but not as bad as it had been before. He leaned over to give him a kiss, letting his hand wander over his back. Ray kissed back, suddenly desperately aware of how close it could have all gone bad. If he hadn't been there, it could be Ryan lying wounded, and there might not have been anything Ray could do to fix it.

Ray put his head back on his arms as Ryan moved over him, arms reaching underneath for the button of his pants. Literally the hottest thing in any other situation, but Ray could only focus on breathing and not whimpering when the pants were carefully dragged down. “Stop staring at my ass,” he joked weakly, even as his cheeks heated up. Fuck everything, seriously, everything that had led to him laying on the bed with a bullet in his ass and his _whatever_ -partner having to fix him up in the most unsexy way.

He heard the slosh of liquid in plastic, and braced himself for the sting of alcohol. “Sssssshit,” he hissed into the pillow. The swiping of a towel over his pained skin somehow hurt worse - even though he knew Ryan wasn't deliberately pressing hard, it still fucking felt like it. He had a moment to collect himself as Ryan got up and dragged the lamp over. He knew what was coming next, but he wasn't looking forward to it either.

A quiet hum came from the remains of his pants. Ray raised his head again, craning his neck to watch Ryan pull out his smartphone from the undamaged pocket. Thank God that hadn't been shot ‒ would that have hurt more? Maybe it would have stopped the bullet, but probably would have just led to more metal in his ass.

Ryan stared at the lit-up screen. His lip twitched, and he tapped what Ray thought was the decline button, but then he leaned over and set it next to Ray's head with a smirk. The line was open, and Geoff's blurry contact picture filled the screen.

“Hey, you there?” Geoff’s voice sounded tinny through the tiny speakers. Ray sent a glare back at Ryan, who was grinning like a little shit, before he properly answered.

“Hey man, how’s it goin’?” He tried to sound normal, like he didn’t have a chunk of metal stuck in his ass, but he sounded strained. Thank God Geoff didn't seem to notice.

“Oh, we’re good. Just wanted to give you guys a quick call, we kinda have a situation developing here, like a five-minute window for a heist that should be amazing, like you have‒”

“Fffffffff‒ _uck_ ,” Ray hissed at the sharp flare of pain that shot up his spine. The fuck was Ryan doing back there?

“Uhh...you okay?” Geoff sounded concerned, which was just damn perfect. 

“Yeah, we’re kinda in our own situation here,” Ray answered through gritted teeth. His muscles felt too tight, like he was gonna break apart, and it was really not helping the situation. It fucking sucked and the last thing he wanted to do was have a nice chat with Geoff.

“Are we, uh, interrupting something?” Ray could hear the joke in his voice, and chuckling in the background from the crew, and he did not fucking appreciate it.

“No!” he blurted sharply. “Just, you know, stuff.” He twisted to make a desperate face at Ryan, but to his horror, Ryan was sitting there holding his own phone with a wicked grin on his face.

“You motherfucker, don’t you fucking dare!” Ray flailed his arms, getting a sharp stab of pain from his ribs, but he was nowhere near close to Ryan and that stupid sneaky grin on his face. “You fucking asshole. You motherfucking Grade A top-tier piece of shit, don’t you fucking dare!”

“What!?” Ray could hear Jack yelling, but Ryan’s fingers were flying over the screen and he couldn’t stop him. Ryan looked up, made dead-on eye contact, and deliberately tapped his thumb with a smirk.

“ _Godammit, you son of a bitch!_ ” Ray howled. He was pissed, but somewhere under that he was also trying to fight down a fit of laughter, and not just because his ribs hurt. Ryan was a fucking asshole, but he knew he’d be doing the exact same thing if the situation was switched. “No one look at your phones. Don't believe his lies!”

“What?” The phone became muffled when Geoff obviously pulled it away to look. It abruptly got louder, so he must have put him on speaker, so he could hear scrambling in the background, probably the rest of the gang going for their own phones.

“You got shot in the ass?!” Gavin’s howl rose over noise, and then the line was overtaken with laughter.

“Fuck!” Ray yelled. “You son of a bitch!” That was directed straight at Ryan, who was hunched almost in half laughing his ass off, one hand over his mouth. “You're fucking dead to me I swear to God‒”

“How did you get shot in the ass?!” That was Michael, and he sounded _delighted_. Ray grit his teeth and sarcastically snapped back.

“With careful planning and a positive can-do attitude, how do you think?!?” Ryan collapsed on the bed, wheezing like he was about to die. “I swear to God,” Ray snapped over his shoulder, “if you don't shut up and get this thing out of my ass I'm never going on a job with you again.” It was an empty threat, obviously, but it was what Brownman would say to the Vagabond, so he had to make it legit. 

“Wait, is that the Vagabond?” Jack at least sounded concerned, and Ray was grateful for about two seconds before realization sunk in. They could hear him laughing. Had they ever heard him laugh before? Ryan didn’t seem to notice, his grin was too big and making his eyes crinkle as he finally pulled himself together.

“Yeah. His dumb ass is the reason there is currently a piece of metal in my ass.” He couldn't stop the snark, it was a natural reaction. He also couldn't blame them for laughing, it was funny. He'd be doing the fucking same. “My ribs are fucked too, so forgive me for not joining in on the hilarity here.”

“Are you okay though? Like, seriously, do we need to get Andy on the line, is this, like, an issue?” The seriousness of the situation was finally calming the crew down, but it honestly wasn't needed. Ray was perfectly happy to just have Ryan worrying over him.

“Yeah, this may come as a shock, but this guy does have experience with bullet wounds and stuff.” Ray turned his head to give Ryan an assuring grin, just to make sure he knew his snark wasn't serious. The look on Ryan's face was equally assuring.

“Does he also have experience with your ass?” Lindsay's abrupt and dry question made the crew go off again, and Ray groaned, dropping his head on his arms again. Ryan was fucking _giggling_ into his hand. He hated all of them.

“It is none of your business what my ass gets up to,” he said primly. “But thanks for your concern, I'll update you if there are any further issues.”

“Yeah, please do.” Geoff answered, then seemed to realize what he'd just said. “I mean, uh, let us know if everything turns out okay. It sounds like you're gonna be laid up for a while.”

“Yeah, I'll be out for a while. Vagabond too, I'm bribing him to take care of me. Nurse outfit and all, it's gonna be great.” They had to be able to hear the loud snort Ryan had made at that. “Now if y’all don't mind I'd like to get fixed up before I bleed to death here.”

The Fakes hung up after giving him more shit, and Ray hung up before sinking his head back onto the bed. “You are the biggest fucking asshole in the world,” he informed Ryan.

He heard a snort, and the quick tap of fingers, before Ryan's phone appeared in front of his face.

**I'd say the hole in your ass is a strong contender**

Ray laughed so hard tears came to his eyes, not helped by the searing pain in his ribs. Ryan was laughing again too, all raspy and delighted, and it had to be okay, if he was laughing like that, not feeling guilt. They really didn't need any more of that in their relationship. 

~*~

“Ugh.”

Ray's head jerked up. That was the closest thing to an actual word he'd ever heard come out of Ryan's mouth. He looked over at the other guy, who was scowling down at some paper. “Ugh?” he asked.

Ryan nodded. “Ugh,” he reiterated. He tossed the papers onto the bed and flopped dramatically after them. He didn't seem troubled, only annoyed. Curious, Ray leaned over to look at the discarded papers. It was some kind of letter, with some kind of logo of a school at the top. 

“Who the fuck is James and why is some college sending you his stuff?”

Ryan's raised his hand and jerked his thumb at himself. Ray laughed, thinking it was a joke, but then Ryan turned his head and raised an eyebrow, and Ray realized he was serious. 

“What?” Ray asked in disbelief. “I thought your name was Ryan?”

Ryan, or James, or whatever the fuck his name was, pulled out his phone for an explanation. There was a small smile hiding on his face. **James is my legal name. Ryan's my middle name, I've been going by it for most of my life**

“God, it's like I don't even know you,” Ray said sarcastically. He looked back at the letter, reading it through. The name thing's shock had quickly worn off, and the college thing wasn't that surprising. He'd always known the guy was smart. He got to a line a third of the way down and gaped in shock. “Fuck my asshole.”

Ryan quickly typed something. **Right now?**

“You're not funny,” Ray told him. “But seriously, they want _how much_? As a _gift_?!”

Ryan nodded. **They figured since I gave them so much as a student I must be rolling in it** His face was heavy with disdain. 

“What does that mean?”

**I switched majors 5 times before I got my degree**

That information hit Ray like a brick to the back of the head. He didn't say anything, just staring at Ryan in shock. Ryan finally noticed and looked back at him questioningly. 

“You were in college for five years?” Ryan shook his head and held up six fingers. “What the fuck dude?”

Ryan snorted at his reaction. **Its not that big a deal anymore. Not like I'm using my technical theater skills in my current job**

“But isn't that why you're such a good actor?” It finally made total sense. Also, the revelation that Ryan was an even bigger nerd than he thought made a lot of things really obvious in hindsight. No wonder he was so dramatic.

 **I was in a few productions, but mostly on the crew side of things. Lights, stage production, that sort of thing.** Seeing the baffled look on Ray's face, he continued typing. **My actual degree is computer related. Kinda a big 180 as far as schooling goes**

“God,” Ray muttered, lying on the bed next to him, something heavy growing in his chest. “My dropout ass looks like crap next to you.”

Ryan immediately rolled over, pinning him to the bed in an embrace. Ray grunted, but didn't squirm away.

**That doesn't mean shit and you know it**

“I mean, yeah, it doesn't mean shit _now_ ,” Ray replied. “But if we go full civilian for some reason, what kind of fucking adult job would I be able to get that's not shit?” That was a stretch, he knew it, but he couldn't imagine any kind of good life thanks to his fuck-up years ago.

 **Do you seriously think I can't fake some kind of degree for you? It's a useless piece of paper, seriously, doesn't mean shit outside of academia** Ray wasn't sure what that meant, but he was pretty confident Ryan was correct. **Fuck you could probably get your GED right now for real if it bothered you that much**

“Yeah, but for what?” Ray rolled his eyes. “I'm not _good_ at anything except killing people at long distances.”

 **You mean having precision accuracy, the mental abilities to calculate angles and compensate for outside factors in a second, the skill to flawlessly execute a constantly-changing plan?** Ryan's grin was almost tender. **Your skills may be highly specialized but you have them and you should be proud of them**

“Ryan the guidance counselor guy,” Ray muttered to himself, trying not to feel mushy. He'd never thought about it that way, but Ryan obviously had, and he was the one with more experience with life outside the criminal world. Maybe he was right.

Ryan nudged him again, drawing his attention back to the screen. **Even if we go full civilian someday, you won't have to worry about working. You can lay around the house all day playing video games. Just have dinner on the table when I come home.**

Ray snorted so hard it hurt. “Oh yeah, I'll be a housewife for you, baby,” he said with a laugh. “Wear nothing but an apron around the house, see how you like that.”

The laugh that got out of Ryan came with a mischievous grin. Oh, he liked that idea. Ray liked it too, and pulled Ryan closer just to show how much he liked it.

~*~

It all went wrong in half a second. 

Ray had time to catch Michael's “Oops” before everything was drowned out by the sounds of explosion. And that was bad because the explosions were supposed to happen much _later_.

“Michael!?” he shouted, something heavy forming in his chest when there was no answer. Geoff was yelling over the comms, Gavin too, but Ray didn't have any time to listen to them. He was the closest to Michael's location, close enough to actually see the growing light of a fire. Fuck the set up, fuck the heist, Ray gunned his bike, breath loud in his ear, racing away from his setup point over to Michael’s location. The only thing he could think was to get to him, to not be too late.

The van Michael had been driving was in ruins, on fire, and upside down. Ray ditched the bike, scrambling over with his heart in his throat. He didn't even take a second to think about what to do, just reached through the shattered window, past the fire and the flames, scrambling for anything alive. He found the fabric of Michael's shirt and pulled, hauling as hard as he could, ignoring the pain in his arms and shoulders. It didn't matter ‒ he had to get him out of there. 

He got Michael free and dragged him away, laying him on his back in the street, where he could see how badly he looked. His hair and jacket were on fire, and Ray painfully and frantically swatted them out. Michael was breathing, but it sounded bad, and his eyes weren't opening. Blood was dripping from a cut in his hairline and Ray didn't know what to do, how to help. He couldn't get him on the bike, didn't know where to take him, and he couldn't _fucking think_.

Another pair of hands came into view, turning Michael onto his side. Ray had no idea how the Vagabond had gotten there so fast, but he was, and he looked just as worried as Ray. “We got him,” Ray gasped into the comms. “He's hurt, he's hurt really bad‒”

“Get him out of there.” Geoff demanded. “You're only a few blocks away from our med guy, just head east until you get to the blue building.” The Vagabond nodded, hauling Michael's unconscious form into his arms like it was nothing. Ray raced after them, away from the approaching red and blue lights. They ducked through alley after alley, and Ray could only be grateful that it was the middle of the night and no one saw them booking it across streets to their destination. 

The Fake’s med guy turned out to be the kid named Andy, the one they had met weeks ago. And he looked just as worried as they were. “Oh jeez,” he moaned as he wheeled a stretcher over. “Put him down, I got everything ready.” The Vagabond set Michael down surprisingly gently, and Andy wheeled him away, back through a pair of doors Ray couldn't bring himself to follow him through.

Ray collapsed into the hard plastic chair in the lobby, feeling both horribly freaked out and suffocatingly calm. It felt like he wanted to panic, but couldn't. His arm hurt, and when he glanced down at it, found he could see the red raw skin through the burnt holes in his hoodie. His hands were burnt too, palms and angry shade of pink, but that just didn't matter compared to what happened to Michael. 

Painfully, he eased his hands out of the sleeves, dropping the ruined hoodie on the floor. At the sound of fabric dropping, the Vagabond turned to him. There was concern obvious in his eyes, but he quickly hid the look when Jack burst through. 

“Is Michael okay?” she demanded sharply, looking around frantically. Ray shook his head.

“Don't know, he just got in there.” His voice felt hollow, just like he did, and the Vagabond didn't bother being subtle about approaching him. One hand landed in his hair, the other gently holding his hands so he could start looking at the burns. Jack raised an eyebrow at the obvious display of affection, but thankfully kept her mouth shut about it. She just very quietly retrieved a burn kit and handed it over to the Vagabond. 

As the Vagabond worked to cover the wounds in cooling gel and gauze, the rest of the crew finally stumbled in, looking all kinds of concerned. Geoff barged straight in to where Andy had taken Michael, but came back after only a few minutes, shaking his head. With nothing else to do, they all settled in to wait.

Ray shifted in the hard plastic chair, wrapping his arms around his middle. His hand kept stroking the bandage covering the burn, over and over, even though it didn’t make it feel any better. Somewhere outside of his awareness Jack and Geoff were talking, Gavin and Jeremy making noises but he just couldn’t focus, brain too caught up in everything that had happened. He just couldn’t handle it.

A pair of legs appeared in front of his view. Ray slowly raised his eyes up to the Vagabond’s mask. He jerked his head towards the door, the request clear.

“No.” Ray said softly. “We are not fucking leaving now.” He didn't know if this was part of the act or not, but the Vagabond would have to physically drag him away if he wanted to leave. And it looked like he was considering it, fists clenched and body tense, like he was totally willing to put in that effort. 

And okay, he was totally capable of just throwing Ray over his shoulder and making him leave, but Ray would not be cool with that.

The Vagabond tilted his head at him, then looked around the room. Jack was watching them from her seat, concern in her eyes. Geoff was pacing with Jeremy, and Gavin was slumped in his own seat, just like Ray, eyes focused on one of the tiles. The Vagabond looked back at him, and shrugged. The jacket slipped from his shoulders, falling around his elbows before he fully pulled it off. He laid it over Ray’s shoulders, like it was nothing, before moving away to stand by the door.

Fuck subtlety, apparently. Ray could feel the significance as the heavy weight landed on his shoulders. This was really something no one else got, and he knew it. The Vagabond had positioned himself like a guard, arms crossed so his nice muscles could really stand out, making it very obvious about the missing article of clothing. Asshole. Not making eye contact with the other guys, who were definitely staring, Ray slid his arms into the sleeves, still warm with his heat. It felt nice, heavy and comforting, just like his hugs.

The wait was agonizing. Ray was pretty sure he was going to fall out of his chair sooner or later. Jack got up and started pacing with Geoff, looking lost. Lindsay showed up, looking far too worried about the situation for it not to mean something. She joined Gavin in a chair, looping an arm around his shoulders. They were all grouped together, comforting each other. Feeling so out of place, Ray wandered off to find the bathroom. 

It was no surprise at all when the Vagabond followed him. The bathroom was small, but they both squeezed in it anyway. The Vagabond glanced around the edges of the ceiling, just in case, before he sighed and took off his mask. Ryan's face was tired and pale, almost looking hurt himself as he stared at Ray. He looked almost as worried as Geoff.

“You have a good reason to act like an asshole?” Ray asked. He was almost sure, but he wanted to know. Ryan nodded, dropping the mask onto the counter and rubbing his face with both hands. Ray's heart lurched. Tentatively, he stepped into range so Ryan's arms could reach out and pull him close, holding him very gently.

“It’s okay,” Ray said, just to hear it be said. Ryan shook his head, chin rustling through his hair. “It is. I'm barely hurt, and Michael will bounce back, I know he will.” The pressure on his shoulders increased, like Ryan was trying to squeeze him straight into his chest. It was a long time before he loosened his grip, pulling out the phone for a comment.

**I hate seeing you get hurt**

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't like it either,” Ray mumbled into his chest. There was something else, he could tell from the short breaths Ryan was taking, the way his fist was holding onto the collar of his jacket. “I'm fine, buddy, I promise.” Ray increased his own grip, hands nearly meeting behind Ryan's back. “Nothing like this is gonna take me from you.”

Those were the magic words. Ray could feel the tension leaking out, the softened but no less enveloping hug. That was it then. Ryan was still afraid to lose him. God was _that_ fucking mutual.

Ryan typed one more thing, slowly and carefully. **And I don't really like hospitals**

Ray wisely chose not to comment on that. That was just another piece of the puzzle, not one of the corner foundation pieces but one that was just needed to make the picture clearer. And he already had a good idea of what he was looking at, he didn't need to have it, but it helped. And it mattered that Ryan let him have it.

A harsh knock on the door had them jumping apart. Ray waited until the mask was back on before opening the door. “What's up?” he asked, casually, like he wasn't just in a locked bathroom with a guy who's jacket he was wearing. Jack, bless her, merely looked amused but not surprised. 

“Michael's out of surgery. He's got some broken bones, some nasty burns and a concussion, but he'll live.” Jack's smile was directed at the Vagabond. “We really owe you two. I think this counts as the second time you got Michael out of some shit. We should hire you to play bodyguard.”

“Don't think Lindsay would like that much,” Ray joked, relief flooding his veins. The waiting room felt much lighter once they joined everyone else, like the dread had all been swept away. The crew all looked at them with obvious gratefulness, even the Vagabond. Ray almost wanted to dismiss it, but he didn't say anything. It didn't feel right.

Michael finally stumbled out, looking terrible but with a triumphant smile on his face. Gavin and Geoff reached him first, wrapping him in an aggressive hug despite his injuries. Ray could hear him complaining from the tangle of limbs and grinned to himself. He was okay. They were all okay.

“Geoff, get off me,” Michael grumbled, pushing him off. Geoff looked ready to cry, but that was nothing compared to how Lindsay was looking. Ray felt like backing off, giving the crew some space, but Michael pointed at him and the Vagabond, leaning on Gavin for support. 

“You guys,” he started, swallowing heavily. “Thanks. I‒ yeah. Thanks.”

Ray laughed in his face. “God, would it kill you to be a little more thankful?” he joked, but let Michael pull him into a supremely awkward hug. The Vagabond kept his distance, but Ray could tell he was smiling.

They all headed back to the tower, talking about who would be helping out Michael during his recovery, and if they were going to try to salvage the heist later. Ray kept the jacket on the whole time, and he and the Vagabond tagged along, because it felt too awkward to leave. They couldn't, not yet.

“You guys are welcome to spend the night,” Geoff offered again, once they were all settled and the pizza was ordered. “Not like we don't have room.”

Ray snuck a look at the Vagabond. He shrugged, so Ray answered for both of them. “Sure, why not?” he answered with his own shrug. It wasn't like they wouldn't be together, even though Geoff showed them to different rooms. As soon as his back was turned, Ray caught the Vagabond's eye and saw the same thought he had there.

Sure enough, after everyone retired early, no one really in the mood to mess around or play anything, Ray slipped out of his room and crossed to the Vagabond's. As soon as the door was closed, arms surrounded his waist and a pair of lips met the back of his neck. Ray grinned in the dark, leaning back against him.

“We are not fucking in Geoff's apartment,” he forewarned him. Ryan snorted, burying his face in his hair. The last of the tension leaked out of Ray's body, relaxing in his arms. He let Ryan steer him into bed, and passed out pretty much the moment his head touched the pillow.

It was much later when he woke up again, feeling something was wrong. It took him several sleepy seconds to realize he was cold and alone in bed. Ray flailed upright, squinting in the dark while scrambling for his glasses. “Ryan?” he whispered softly. 

Over by the door, something barely moved. Very carefully, dread growing in his stomach and wondering what the fuck he was about to see, Ray reached over and clicked on the table lamp. The soft yellow glow lit up Ryan, sitting cross-legged in front of the door. He didn't react at all to Ray turning on the light, not even to blink and break his staring contest with the door. He was still in his sleep clothes, no mask, but he was covered in weapons. Ray could see at least two guns and several knives resting on his folded legs, and more on the floor next to him.

Ray swore softly under his breath. Not again. He slipped out of bed and sat on the floor next to him, moving some of the weapons out of the way, so he could lean on his shoulder. He wasn't surprised to feel how tense he was, so wound up it was amazing he hadn't already snapped. Ryan didn't relax, but Ray could feel the slightest bit of pressure pushing back against him, so he knew he was there.

This close to the door, he could hear muffled words and laughter coming from beyond it. Whoever was still up with Michael was being quiet, but still loud enough to hear. That must have been what set Ryan off. “Hey, buddy,” Ray said soothingly, petting the hand holding the gun up and ready, “it’s okay.” He kept his words quiet, just for Ryan's ears. “It's just the crew. They're okay, they're good, you know that.” 

Maybe he didn't, since Ray's words got no reaction out of him. But he was still there, hadn't gone hunting them down, so that was good.

Ray swallowed, trying to think. This hadn't happened in ages, so it was probably something to do with being in a strange place, with people they still didn't know they could trust around. Then there was the thing he had mentioned earlier, about being freaked out by hospitals, and Ray getting hurt, and really it was no wonder he kinda got freaked out.

“I know you think you're in danger here,” he whispered against his ear, “but you're not, I promise. I'm here, it's okay. They won't try shit with me here.” At least he hoped not. “And I'm okay too. I'm right here, nothing's gonna take me away from you. We're fine, you're fine. Everything's okay.”

Last time, his words had sorta worked; Ryan had let Ray have the gun after he assured him he was there. And maybe it was, Ryan was leaning back against him, the frantic look in his eye fading a bit. He was still too tense, looking like he was about to jump up and bust down the door. And that would be bad.

Ray tried another tactic. He wiggled back until he was behind Ryan, looking directly at his messy bun. Gently, trying not to startle him, he rested his hands against the firm line of his back and started rubbing his hands up and down his spine. Ray put pressure and force into every movement, hard enough that Ryan was rocking back and forth with the motions. 

Gauging the right moment, Ray reached up and abruptly hauled back on Ryan's shoulders. Ryan fell back, and Ray carefully guided his head into his lap. Thank God, Ryan didn't shoot back up or struggle against his grip. Instead, he let out a breathy gasp, like he was shocked out of his focus. After a few tense seconds, Ryan finally went limp in Ray's lap. He locked eyes with Ray, and it wasn't anger or mistrust on his face ‒ he looked fucking terrified. He started trembling as he stared up at him, like he was just on the edge of losing it. It twisted something in Ray's chest _hard_. 

“Hey, still fine. You're still fine.” He started running his fingers through Ryan's hair, over the crown of his head, the hand on his shoulder rubbing at the tight muscles. Ryan didn't take his eyes off him, staring up at him like he was the only light in the room, not the lamp off to the side. His free hand came up to hold on to Ray's. He gripped him like a lifeline, squeezing harder every time the noise from the other room increased. It was like he knew he was safe, but his body didn't believe it and wouldn't let him relax. Ray got that.

Ray didn't relax either, even as hours passed. When Michael and Geoff finally made their way to bed, moving through the hallway outside their door, Ray leaned forward, bending his spine so he could rest his forehead against Ryan's, not breaking eye contact. “Hang in there, buddy,” he said softly, over and over. “I'm right here, I've got you. I've got you.”

He kept whispering soft assurances until his back was screaming in pain, until the terrified look faded from Ryan's eyes, replaced by distant awareness. Playing with Ryan's hair, rubbing the hand held in his, keeping very still and very calm. As long as Ray wasn't freaking out, neither was Ryan.

“Here's what's gonna happen,” he finally said, after it had been quiet long enough. “We're gonna arm up and leave. Not gonna attack, not gonna brawl, we're just gonna leave. You got that, buddy? Can you promise no attacking?” 

One of Ryan's fingers loosened its grip and moved against his. Looking down at their joined hands, Ray saw Ryan had wrapped his pinky around his. He half-chuckled. “Good enough,” he decided.

Once they were up, they moved fast. Ryan divvied the weapons up between them, making sure Ray was way more armed than he needed to be. Pulling the jacket back on did seem to help, his eyes became a little more focused, but he still didn't relax. He kept glancing towards the door, and Ray knew he was still expecting an attack.

He wondered how many nights Ryan had spent like this before. Alone in the dark, not able to relax because he thought an attack was coming. No one to help him out of it because there was no one he could trust.

Ray left the room first, ignoring the displeasure that was obvious under Ryan’s mask. Like he expected, it was dark and quiet and no ambush was waiting, but Ryan still moved cautiously. One hand was holding the gun, the other was caught in Ray's hand as he was pulled along. Ray pulled him into the elevator, and as it descended away from the top floor, he thought he heard an alarm go off. That may have made him walk extra quickly out of the building, but no one came after them.

A few blocks away, Ryan ditched the mask, and by the time they reached the car, he seemed almost back to normal. Ray still drove them out of the city, north through the mountains, until the sun came up and they got to some cute little bed and breakfast that had no business serving the likes of them.

Once he looked over the the room for enemies, Ryan collapsed into bed and was asleep in seconds. Ray gratefully joined him, firing off a quick text to Geoff, some bullshit excuse about leaving early for a job. Then he let himself be pulled into cuddle position.

Ryan slept for two and a half days. Ray added another thing to his “Do Not Ever Ask About” list.

~*~

“Ray? You there? It's Jeremy.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ray let the grumpiness in his voice show, since he couldn't do what he really wanted and go back to sleep. Already his heart was pounding with a bolt of anxiety. There was only one reason one of the Fakes would call in the middle of the night, and that reason could only be bad. 

Especially since they mostly texted. Phone calls were never good, period.

“Is the Vagabond there?”

“Yeah, he's here.” Jeremy didn't need to know they were in the same bed, and that Ryan was already wide awake and pulling himself closer so he could hear. When Ray glanced over his shoulder, he saw just as much worry on his face that there had to be on his own.

“Someone's got a hit out on you two.”

“God damn it,” Ray swore under his breath. Of course it had to be that. It was only a matter of time ‒ in fact Ray was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. Ryan may be his favorite person in the world, but he definitely wasn't to a lot of other people.

Ryan rolled away from him, reaching to grab his laptop off the floor, and Ray sat up, slapping on the light and grabbing his glasses. He put the phone on speaker so Ryan could still hear while he hauled his laptop onto the bed. “Know who it is?”

“Not yet. They got in touch with us ‘cause they knew we worked with you before, wanted to know if we would double cross you.” Ray could hear muffled noises on his end, and imagined Jeremy walking around the penthouse. “Gav's trying to trace the message, but he's not getting anywhere‒”

“Wait!” Ray cut him off while Ryan started tapping frantically at his laptop. Harsh suffocating fear was crawling up his chest, but for once it wasn't _just_ over Ryan. “If this fuck got ahold of you first, they're gonna know you tipped us off. They're gonna come after you.”

“Dude, we know, but we're good. No one's gonna fuck with us, and if they do we’ll just fuck them right back.” Ray was about to shoot back that his excuses didn't mean shit, but Geoff’s voice took over the phone.

“Right, you there? I just sent the message to your buddy's laptop so you take a look, see if you can figure out who it is‒” Ryan started staring at his screen intensely, so Ray assumed he'd gotten it. He could barely breathe through the worry in his chest. “Gavvy’s still goin’ at it, but it might take a while. Meanwhile you guys gotta get underground. You got somewhere to hide?”

They didn't, Ray realized with a sinking feeling. Except the run-down cabin states away, they didn't have a base or hideout or anywhere reliable to fall back on. But Ryan was nodding at him, so Ray translated, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Yeah, the Vagabond’s got somewhere.” He didn't fucking know _where_ , but Ryan apparently had that covered. Because of course he did.

“Good, cause otherwise you could come stay here. I don't know where you are compared to us, so it might be tough to get you here, but we could totally‒”

“No!” Ray cut him off, so sharply that Ryan looked up in shock. “No, you can't be helping us. Whoever’s after us is gonna be after you too!”

There was a shocked silence from the other end. “Dude, it's okay,” Geoff finally said, finally sounding properly worried. “We can handle ourselves, we've got this. You don't have to worry bout us.”

“You don't fucking get it.” Ray's throat was tight as he tried to get his point across. “You're putting a big fucking target on your back, you don't even know _who's_ after you or what they're capable of. I've seen this before, you don't need to be putting yourselves in danger for us‒”

The rest of Ray's rant was stopped by Ryan pushing him over, causing the phone to fall from his hand. Ray gasped for breath and found he couldn't stop, chest heaving while he was pressed to the mattress by Ryan, who was molded to him in a protective hold. His hand moved over Ray's hair, over and over, but for once it wasn't helping, nothing could help those stupid idiots who already got too involved and they were too involved with them...

“They can't help us,” he grated out, low enough that the phone wouldn't pick it up. “They can't.” 

Ryan nodded, petting Ray's hair soothingly. When the hell had that started to matter? Since when did he give a fuck if their sometimes-employers were in danger? But God, all of a sudden the idea of Geoff and the guys getting mowed down in a firefight really fucking hurt. But they couldn’t exactly do anything about it, not when there was someone else on their tail.

“Please tell me you got this,” Ray whispered desperately into Ryan's neck. Everything was spiraling out of control, but he had to know, he had to believe Ryan had his shit together. Ryan nodded again, pulling back so Ray could see his face. It was calm, and focused, and Ray couldn't help but feel relief as Ryan leaned down to kiss him, soothingly. He had it.

“Hello?” Geoff's voice sounded thin coming from the speakers of the abandoned phone, but the worry was still evident. “Please tell me you're not dead already.”

Ryan sat back up, a guiding hand pulling Ray with him. “Yeah, we're here,” Ray answered, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “Just tryin to figure our shit out.” He felt so cold, away from Ryan, who was frantically doing something again on his laptop. “I think we're gonna be goin’ off the grid for a while‒” Ryan's nod confirmed that ‒ “but you guys gotta promise you won't do some stupid shit.”

“I mean that's a stretch, you know how Gavin is.” Ray didn't laugh even as Geoff chuckled. He quickly sobered up. “Seriously, don't worry bout us. Just get your asses somewhere safe.”

“We will.” Ryan snapped the laptop closed with a nod and stood. “See ya later.” Ray hung up and got to his feet, mirroring Ryan. “So what's the plan?” he asked. Ryan chucked him one of the bags as he typed on his phone.

**Pack up and get hiding. Separate your usual stuff from what you wear on jobs. Were going civilian**

“Fuck,” Ray hissed as he began sorting. Sure hiding in plain sight was a good idea, especially for Ryan, when so few people (specifically, one person) knew who he was the one under the mask. But God, that meant acting normal, and in public, while still covering their asses. Great.

Ryan handed him the bag where he had stowed all of their criminal stuff, and Ray followed him to the door. He was already cautious, cracking the door only a hair to peer out, carefully leading Ray along the exposed hallway to their parking lot. Then he drove like a bat out of hell into the night... with a plan Ray didn't yet know.

But he was fine with that. Whatever Ryan had planned would work, because things always worked out for him. They'd be fine, but that wasn't doing anything for his current level of stress.

~*~

Anticlimactically, their first stop was a storage locker.

Ray waited patiently in the car as Ryan stashed their guns and other criminal accessories. He wondered where they'd go, since the odds were good the cabin wasn't safe either. Better to go off the grid in a whole new location. The ‘where’ was really the question, since he had no idea where the best place was to hide in public as “civilians”. That wasn't his usual method of hiding, obviously ‒ slumming in an apartment until everyone who hates you forgets you exist was more his style.

Ryan also procured a folder from the storage locker, and passed it to Ray as he began driving. To his surprise, there was a pair fake driver's licenses, and one had his headshot. Ray didn't even know when Ryan had a chance to make them, even though he vaguely remembered him ordering some when they first started out. He'd had to pose in a bathroom of a shitty truck stop to get the white background right. He glanced at the other card and did a double take. Their fake last names were the same.

“I… I don't think anyone will buy us as siblings,” he said uncertainly. Ryan rolled his eyes at him, like the answer was obvious. And it was, Ray just had a hard time working it through his head. He could feel his face heating up at the thought. It got worse when Ryan reached across him into the glove box, and passed him a little plastic baggie with a pair of rings.

“Fuck me dude, real romantic.” Ray joked like it would stop the sudden pounding of his heart, the feelings welling up in his chest. He knew it was a disguise, not real, but…it felt real, especially when Ryan slipped his on and reached over to take his hand. Ray looked at their joined hands, the ring standing out bright against his skin, and felt such stupid joy over such a little thing.

The good feelings faded as they approached the airport. Ray shrunk in his seat, feeling the anxiety well up again. This was firmly in the realm of shit he didn't know anything about. His ride with Jack a few heists ago wasn't his first time in the air, but he could count the other times on one hand. And in those instances, he hadn't needed to worry about taking the legal avenues in.

Ryan had it, because of course he did. He led the way from the parking lot, guided him through the security, even though Ray thought he'd lose his mind at the scrutiny. He wasn't about to blab and expose them, but God, the idea of their faces being logged for any reason was terrifying. Ryan didn't seem bothered at all, which was reassuring. Ray was sure he was overthinking it, again, but he couldn't help it. It just happened, and he learned to live with it.

Waiting for their plane in the lounge, Ryan kept him distracted with videos on his phone. He kept their hands together, shoulders brushing, like any good fake husband. Ray really appreciated it, the way the simple touch seemed to be grounding him against his anxiety. No one looked twice at them, not the airport officials, or the other passengers once they loaded. Ray stuck close to Ryan's side, keeping the panic pushed down and focusing on his breathing as they took off. He didn't even know where they were going.

He found out as soon as they landed. The air itself was warm, thick with moisture, and even smelled sweet. There were tall leafy plants everywhere and, far off in the distance, a hint of ocean that looked much bluer than any other sight of the ocean he'd ever seen. A fucking tropical paradise. 

“Okay, I'll give it to you,” Ray admitted, staring at the view. “This is the last place anyone would expect us to go.”

Ryan's grin was stupidly proud.

~*~

Ray wasn't really a fan of wide open spaces, and beaches didn't really thrill him, but Ryan shirtless on a beach, playing drink slave in a pair of swim trunks ‒ _that_ was right up his alley.

And he'd gotten that for a solid two weeks, at least, every blissful day blurring into the next. It was a luxurious hotel, with people who didn't give a shit that they'd clearly been having sex every single night, mind-numbingly beautiful views and no one looking to kill them. As far as anyone was concerned, they were just honeymooning husbands, and Ray was happy to act the part.

Ryan handed him a perspiring drink, and after digging in his pocket for a second, the one burner phone he had brought with. Ray squinted at the screen, since it was easier pulling his glasses down than to take off the clip-on sunglasses. The sun was searing bright off the water and the sand, and the screen too dark to see, but he finally made out the message.

**Good news. We found the guy who put the hit out on you. He's not local, some drug lord out east, but we got a lock on him. Should be safe to meet up again**

“Damn,” Ray said appreciatively, handing it back. “So is this vay-cay over? Time to go back to work?” Ryan nodded, but didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, flopping on the sand next to him. His long hair was loose, looking much lighter from the sun, and he seemed so relaxed, even though Ray was sure he was constantly surveying, always thinking about threats and their new target. Ray took a sip of his fruity drink, savoring as much as he could. It couldn't last, their little trip, but that didn't mean he wanted it to be over.

They had one last night, and lived it up as much as they could. They ate at the most expensive restaurant, took one last walk on the beach, and fucked in their bedroom like it was going out of style. Ray didn't want it to end, the breathy sound of Ryan in his ear, all night long, the feelings of pleasure and devotion that went on and on. It was literally fucking paradise, just a glimpse, but it couldn't last forever. 

The airport on the mainland was a gross industrial shock to the system after all the sun and greenery. Los Santos welcomed them back with its usual fervor, sirens wailing in the distance and no one giving a shit. It was automatic, slipping back into their roles as they stepped out into the city. Ray could almost see the tightness appear back in Ryan's shoulders and eyes, back in business again. Ray couldn't say he missed it.

Because Ryan was Ryan, he had spares of his jacket and mask stashed at yet another storage unit. Ray's usual gun was at the other storage facility across the country, but Ryan assured him he had a spare. He should have known, really, that something was up ‒ Ryan had that sneaky smirk on his face, but Ray didn't know why until he opened up the gun safe. Ray took one look at the hot pink rifle and collapsed in laughter.

“That is _so_ my style, how did you know?” The sneaky smirk was now a full-blown grin, which only got wider when Ray actually took it and packed with the rest. It was stupid, and so totally obvious and something a _sniper_ should not be carrying around, but it was the thought that counted.

Ray loaded up on guns, packing their stuff in the rental car. Then they set off across the city to rendezvous with the crew, to get the info on whoever had the hit out on them. They said he wasn't local, so there was probably another trip in order, more shit for Ryan to plot. Straight back to business.

Ray watched the city slip past, trying to figure out what he was feeling. It wasn't unhappiness, exactly, or disappointment, but it kinda sucked being back around people who wanted to kill them again, after an excellent and relaxing time with none of that. He caught the look Ryan was giving him, and quickly snapped out of it. 

“Do you think this is actually a set up?” Ryan tilted his head at him in question. “Like, you know how the guy offered the hit to them first‒ what if they actually took it and now we're waltzing right into a trap?” Ryan smiled at shook his head at the idea. Not that it wasn't something to expect, but that would be way stupid since they had forewarned them in the first place. That was too much effort.

“Wouldn't it be great if they're out heisting right now? And they come back and we were just chilling on the couch?” Ray suggested. Ryan brightened, obviously pleased with the idea. “You can hack into the security system, right?” 

Ryan pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to him, pulling an offended face and putting a hand dramatically to his chest. Ray was too busy laughing to see the first car speed past, but he definitely saw the second one. Because it was a purple and orange monster truck.

“Fuck me, I was kidding!” Ray said in exasperation. Ryan looked back to him as a mass of cop cars sped through the intersection. He raised an eyebrow, and Ray shrugged. 

“Sure, why not? It's a rental.” Ray reached into the backseat as Ryan accelerated, following the cops. Everything was waiting for them, familiar and dangerous. He passed the skull mask to Ryan, who slid it on between stoplights, and quickly pulled on his own. Ray grabbed the mini from its case, loving the familiar heavy weight in his hands, and rolled down the window. He crawled most of the way out and sat his ass on the window sill, wedging his legs against the seats. The wind rushing past pulled tears from his eyes, but that didn't stop him from raising the gun and firing into the pursuing vehicles. 

Ray whooped at the immediate chaos. Several cops pulled away to get out of range, even more in various stages of crashing. He kept firing as the Vagabond accelerated more, blowing past the ones still in pursuit until they drew even with Jeremy's truck. He slipped back inside and flashed the middle finger in Jeremy's laughing face. It had to be Michael and Gavin in front of them, he could see them fishtail in acknowledgment. This had all the indications of a lads heist.

Just to show off, Ray switched to the bright pink sniper, picking off the cops with beautiful accuracy. He found himself warming to the piece, despite the color. The gun itself may be garish as fuck, but the scope was sighted in beautifully, and that's what really mattered. 

Despite the fun, Ray quickly picked up on the seriousness of the situation, especially when it became clear they were rather lacking in backup, and the cops kept increasing. Jeremy led the way off road, and the Vagabond jerked their car after him with a lurch that made Ray's teeth rattle. They were able to get some distance, just enough to stop and ditch the rental, grabbing their stuff and scrambling into the slightly more stable monster truck.

“Hey, good to see you guys!” Jeremy sounded happy, but Ray could detect the strain in his voice as he was squeezed in beside him. He passed the mini to the Vagabond and tried to find something to hang on to.

“So what's the plan here?” Ray managed to ask over the roar and rattle of the engines.

“Uh, yeah, just lose these guys somehow.” Jeremy gestured over his shoulders at their pursuers. “Gav and Michael lost theirs at the marina--they say hi, by the way.”

The Vagabond, from where he was practically turned around in his seat so he could fire out the window, muttered something barely audible. Ray helpfully translated. “Why don't we join them?”

“What, and ditch my truck?” Jeremy gave them a hurt look. “Relax, we got this.”

“Optimistic fucker, aren't you?” Ray had to admit, the Vagabond was going a better job than he'd been, actually making some progress picking off the cops. They could still make it out.

It took a lot longer than expected, and needed a Hail Mary save from Gavin and Michael in a ‘copter Ray wasn't sure they should be allowed to pilot, but they all finally made it back to the tower, bruised and a little singed, but all alive. Only to then face the wrath of Geoff.

“What the fuck was that bullshit?!” Geoff was steaming, livid, and Jack had her ‘I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed’ Mom face on. The lads cowered at the sight, but Ray just gave them a happy grin.

“Relax, dude.” Ray was immune to such faces after being on the receiving end of the Vagabond murder glare enough times. “They had adult supervision.” He slapped the Vagabond's shoulder, earning an audible snort and a shove deeper into the apartment. 

Geoff seemed to decide to spare them his ire, because technically they weren't his crew to yell at, and got to work dressing down the Lads. Ray plopped down on the couch, sighing in relief, and the Vagabond went off to the kitchen for snacks. After making sure the boys felt her disappointment, Jack came over to join him. 

“Aw, man, you got tanner!” she complimented, plopping on the couch next to him and stretching her arm out next to his. “I’m jealous.”

“Dude, that's offensive,” Ray said without feeling. He relaxed into the plush cushions, sighing in comfort. Damn it felt good to be back. 

“You got some good tan lines there,” she said slyly, ducking her eyes down, and when Ray glanced where she was looking he saw the paler skin on his finger from the ring. _Fuck_. Ray not-at-all subtly hid hid hand from her demented grin. “Looks like you two had fun.”

“Yeah, we laid low, caught some sun, the Vagabond embraced acting like the octogenarian senior he really is, it was great.”

Jack chuckled at the blatant lie. “God, I could use a fucking tropical vacation,” she sighed wistfully, a dreamy expression on her face. “Get a fucking tan, not have anyone shooting at me, that’d be great. Fuck, it's mine and Geoff's anniversary coming up, I should make him take me somewhere nice.”

Ray grinned. “Yeah, I'm sure he'd‒ shit.” Anniversary. The thought stabbed through his head like a knife, stopping him cold. Was it...had that…his heart sank like a rock in his chest. It had been about a year, hadn't it, since Ryan had broke in, and then all of a sudden they were friends and then they were sleeping together and he hadn't been paying attention at all to how long it had been...

“Ray!” Jack’s voice cut through the fog. She was staring at him with worry obvious on her face. “Are you okay?” She sounded concerned, and Ray realized his face had slipped, he'd been staring out into space as the realization had turned into anxiety-biting dread. He'd been so stupid he hadn't even realized it was their anniversary. The vacation, the present, the great sex the entire time...it all pointed to something he'd been too blind to see.

He wanted to crawl in some dark corner and rot, but Ray forced his grin back into place. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he said with forced cheeriness. “I just...forgot something. It's fine.” 

Jack totally looked like she didn't believe him. “You sure? I mean, you looked really, I don't know, freaked out. Was it‒” 

“It's fine,” Ray snapped again. Fuck, couldn't she just let their shit go? Why did she always have to fucking snoop? “It's my fucking problem, okay, don't worry about it.”

He had to get away. Ray got to his feet abruptly, ignoring the shocked look on her face. The Vagabond was definitely giving him the hairy eyeball from across the room, but he ignored him too. Fuck, he was probably pissed, probably couldn't believe how fucking stupid Ray was to not have noticed. He moved quickly over to where Michael and Jeremy had escaped Geoff and joined them dicking around with the game system. He let their bickering pull him in, offering shit advice, anything to keep from focusing on the black spot of worry in the back of his mind.

The games helped, once the system was set up. The stupid fighting game was wonderfully distracting, and could handle all of them playing. The Vagabond took his usual seat next to him, shoulder pressed comfortably against Ray's. He didn't seem mad, but he was definitely glancing over at him between rounds, more than he usually did. Every look made white-hot anxiety spike in Ray’s gut, and the terrible guilt kept threatening to swamp him. 

Jack was also watching him too, and Ray wanted to scream at them both, tell all of them to fuck off and leave him alone. But he couldn't.

During a break, as everyone else was busy getting snacks, Jack not-so-subtly motioned the Vagabond over to a somewhat quiet corner. Ray watched, pure horror welling up inside his chest, as she spoke quickly to him in a low voice. She kept looking past the Vagabond in his direction, so she was definitely talking about him. Shit. Ray stuffed his face with nachos and tried not to look like he was snooping. When the Vagabond turned to stare at him as well, Ray avoided his eyes. Double shit. 

The Vagabond left her and walked over to Ray's side with purpose. He could almost see the look on his face, since it was one he knew well. That was the ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ look. The Vagabond was trying to figure him out again, figure out what was going on in his fucked up head, except this time he didn't want him to.

“It's fine,” Ray told him in a low voice. The gaze coming from behind the mask was deeply suspicious. “I'll tell you later, it's fine.” Maybe if he said it enough times it would be true.

Nothing bad happened for the rest of the night, besides Geoff sabotaging Gavin's attempt at winning by kicking him off the couch and wrestling him on the floor. Even the Vagabond was laughing, relaxed against his side, brutally ruthless in the game and the glares he gave anyone that stopped his murder spree. Everything felt so familiar, almost safe, it a way he hadn't felt in the longest time. 

Ray did his best to look like he was having fun, even though the thick suffocating feeling made it hard to even focus. He hadn't missed the feeling, but he didn't try to shake it off. It couldn't be helped, he deserved to feel like shit because he was shit. A shit individual who was a shit boyfriend. Ryan really didn't deserve someone like him.

Sometime around three in the morning everyone stumbled to their rooms. Ray caught the Vagabond’s deliberate look and head tilt towards his door when they reached their rooms, but for once he ignored it. He didn't want to bother him anymore. He’d just spent an oblivious week with him without even realizing it was their freaking anniversary, why would Ryan want anything to do with him?

He should have known it wouldn't work. After everything had gone quiet, well past the time he usually would have snuck into Ryan's room, he heard his own door handle turn. Ray didn't bother rolling over, just shoved his face harder into the pillow. Ryan didn't turn on the lights or anything, climbing into bed and sprawled half on top of him. Ray couldn't shake him off, but he couldn't curl up in his arms like he wanted to. Not now.

Ryan didn't seem put off. If anything, he was relentless, forcing his arms under Ray's chest so he was being cuddled, whether he liked it or not. Ray squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let himself explode or something. But then Ryan was kissing the back of his neck, and it wasn't fair that he knew that weakness and was still being so nice when Ray was such a fucking fuck-up‒

“You don't‒” Ray swallowed when his voice shook. “You can just be mad at me, I know I deserve it.” He hated saying it, but it was true. 

One of Ryan's hands snaked free from under his body, no doubt going for the phone. The other found Ray's wrist, gripping it tightly. Rubbing at his skin the way he always did, trying to soothe him. When the bright light finally turned his way, Ray cracked an eye open to see what was on the screen.

**Tell me what I'm supposed to be mad about and I'll decide if I should be or not**

“You know why.” Ray wasn't in the mood to play dumb, even if his guts were cramping with anxiety. “Cause I'm a fucking idiot who didn't even fucking notice his own anniversary. I'm shit at this and I'm sorry but I didn't fucking figure it out until now and…” Ray trailed off, realizing Ryan had gone very still where he was pressed to his back. “I'm sorry if you had a shit time cause I was too stupid to figure it out,” he finished weakly.

He waited for Ryan's reaction, but it wasn't happening. The phone was limp in his hand, not even being held up for him to see. Ray twisted his neck, trying to see over his own shoulder. In the white light from the screen, Ryan had the strangest expression on his face, a mixture of confusion and more than a little alarm as he stared back at Ray.

“That was…” Something clicked again in Ray's head as he stared back at Ryan. “That was our anniversary, right? That's why we were there?”

Very slowly, still looking very fucking befuddled, Ryan shook his head no.

“But...but it's been a year, right?” The dread was slowly going away, but the overwhelming feeling that he'd fucked up stayed firm, and was quickly being joined by the sense that he was a fucking idiot.

Ryan tapped frantically at his phone. **I don't even know when I moved in or what day counts as our anniversary but if that was going to be the reason for a vacation I would have told you**

“Oh.” It was official, he was a fucking idiot. Ray hid his face in the pillow again for a different reason, to hide the burning in his cheeks. He heard Ryan chuckle over his head before he settled back down, pulling him back into a hug he still didn't really deserve. There were really no words to sum up the depth of his stupidity.

“So…” Ray paused when Ryan kept laughing. “Shut up. Just forget I said anything.” Ryan kissed the back of his neck again like an asshole, and he kept going until he was kissing his neck, up under his ear, until he was able to tilt his head enough to kiss at his face.

**You're a dumbass but i love you anyway**

Holy shit. Ray didn't feel like he could breathe. He closed his eyes and settled his head back down, trying not to let any emotion seep out. Ryan didn't seem bothered by the lack of response, just kept kissing across his cheeks and neck. He wanted to enjoy it, wanted to let the kisses continue and give some back, but he couldn’t. Instead Ray rolled over in his arms, so they were chest to chest, effectively stopping that affection. Ryan got the hint, switching to holding him close and stroking his hair. Ray closed his eyes and tried to push the feelings away, all of them, just stop his stupid fucking brain and get some sleep. Then it wouldn't be so bad.

~*~

Ray knew it was morning the same way he knew that gravity was going to make him its bitch for the rest of the day. The depression was back, and it had a firm claim over his body. He couldn't fucking move, had been lying awake for hours but was unable to do anything about it. It had struck again. Hard.

It was probably a lot of things‒ the anxiety from the previous day, or being forced back into interacting with other people‒ that was making him feel like shit. Or maybe it was just nothing, and he was having a bad day because that was just his fucking life. Wasn't like he could do much else about it.

At least he had Ryan wrapped around him, holding him close even while asleep. He didn't deserve it, after the previous night, but it was the only thing that currently felt good so he'd take it.

Ryan finally woke, releasing his hold and sitting up slowly. He blinked sleepily at Ray, who just stared back. And apparently that was all it took for him to get it. Ryan sighed in understanding, reaching over to stroke Ray's hair before standing. Ray watched the blurry sight from the bed as he wandered over to the attached bathroom, where he could hear the sound of running water. When he came back, Ryan was holding his pack of pills and a glass of water. 

Ray took both, even though his empty stomach protested. Ryan seemed to consider that good enough, for now, and climbed into bed again. Ray burrowed into his side, letting the arms wrap around him again, and knew he was so fucking lucky to have that at all.

They stayed like that for hours, just breathing and soaking up one another's presence. Their quiet peaceful morning was ruined eventually by the rattling vibration from one of their phones. Tossing his hair out of his eyes, Ryan stretched his arm out over to the nightstand to retrieve it. He squinted at the message before making a face, then held it out for Ray, holding it close enough to his face for him to read.

**Gav wants to know if ur coming out soon we need another for Mario party**

Ray shook his head, feeling guilt rising to join the rest of the negativity. He’d forgotten that they weren't slumming it at some hotel, his friends were out there and no doubt wondering what the fuck they were up to. But Ray _couldn't_ , he just couldn't go out there and deal with anything in his current state.

Ryan tapped a message, but it wasn't for Michael. **Do you want me to explain or not?**

“Please don't,” Ray requested softly. “Not yet, okay?” He didn't know how he could ever tell them, because seriously, a guy like him wasn't supposed to have depression. How would they even react, or even want to deal with him if they knew?

Ryan nodded his understanding. Instead of answering back he deleted his message from the reply box and switched over to the video app, finding a compilation of guys getting hit in the balls for them to watch. He knew exactly how to cheer Ray up.

They got several more texts over the day, all ignored. Ray gladly sunk into a comfortable brain fog, letting the desire to become one with the bed take over. Ryan still kept him mostly upright, but it was a challenge when he was so warm and comfortable and Ray wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and cuddle with him forever. It was great, almost perfect, except for the lingering thoughts that kept drifting through his mind.

It wasn't just the misunderstanding ‒ he should have known, _should have known by now_ what to expect from Ryan and the way he was. Even if his stupid brain took things the wrong way, he should know to trust his buddy, trust his intentions because he had never, _ever_ screwed him over. And yet he kept questioning, kept mis-thinking, and how could Ryan deal with that so many times?

“I'm sorry I'm like this,” Ray said into the prickly curve of Ryan's chin. Ryan squeezed him even harder, but the loud snort said something else. Ray was stunned for a few seconds by that reaction, just long enough for Ryan to type. 

**You don't have to apologize. I love you either way**

There it fucking was again. Ray knew it was real, like legit, but it made his face burn anyway so he hid it in Ryan's hair. Fucking bastard. Now he was gonna have to say it, and spontaneously self-combust as a result.

Eventually the intermittent rumbling in Ryan's stomach was enough to get him to move. Ray released him from the pillow prison, watching him stand and stretch luxuriously. Fuck, Ray loved that look on him, hair down and loose, pajama pants dangerously low and all-around rumpled. All soft and relaxed, the way he never could be once he stepped out the door‒

Shit. Ray snapped his head up as Ryan put his hand on the doorknob. “Mask!” he hissed desperately. Ryan froze, an alarmed look obvious on his face. He'd almost walked out to the apartment fully unmasked, for all the crew to see. Ray could barely make out the perturbed look on his face as he retrieved the latex skull and pulled it on. Thank fuck he'd brought it over to Ray's room the previous night. 

Otherwise…who fucking knew. Ray was pretty sure he wouldn't kill all the crew, but that was still something they couldn't have. Maybe ever.

Ryan left, and Ray stared dimly at the wall, waiting for his return. When Ryan finally did, it was with two tumblers of smoothies, and when he pulled the mask off again, a serious look.

**Geoff and the boys are worried about you**

Ray shrugged, taking the offered glass and straw. “They don't have to be,” he replied, taking a sip of delicious fruitiness. “You didn't say anything, right?”

Ryan gave him a ‘no shit’ look as he typed an answer. **I told them it was your business. You could tell them tho**

“Meh,” Ray dismissed. “Can't see that going well.”

Ryan looked like he disagreed, taking a pensive sip of his own smoothie. **I didn't think less of you once I figured it out**

“Well, that kinda doesn't count.” Ray gave him his version of the serious look. “Things were… they were already weird between us.”

With a soft smile, Ryan nodded, putting his phone away and positioning himself against Ray's side again. The thing was, Ray knew Ryan was right, the asshole. They were his friends, like legitimately, not like Ryan's weird roommate status when he finally put it together. They'd already seen one of his freakouts and were still there, but it was different to give them the whole story, not like with Ryan (Since he'd been fully expecting and Ryan to eventually kill him, and would have welcomed it). He didn't feel that way anymore. Now he had things to live for.

~*~

It wasn't so bad, Ray decided after waking up from his 15-hour apathy coma. He felt better‒ not great, but ready to roll out of bed and kick the world's ass, not the other way around. But there was something very important to do first.

Ray rolled over, shoving Ryan on his back and settling over him. The sleepy alarm on Ryan's face faded as soon as Ray began kissing him, long and deep and steady. His mouth felt gross and Ryan's was probably the same, but it didn't matter. His arm came up to cup the back of Ray's neck, holding him down and bringing him closer. His body was so warm, conforming easily under his, and Ray wanted to sink into it and stay with him, forever.

Finally Ray pulled back, just enough to whisper against his lips. “Fuck me in the shower.”

Ryan nodded, sliding his hand in his hair to bring his mouth back down to kiss. Getting out of bed was a process, because neither wanted to stop kissing long enough to actually get up. Ryan ended up sitting on the side of the bed, Ray fully in his lap, making out like they were a couple of teens. Ray could feel Ryan's hardness through his pajamas, and it was slowly heating the desire in his own body. Everything felt muted, slowed down and heavy, but in a good way, not like his brain was betraying him. Like his body knew this was a good thing and it was going to last. 

Eventually Ryan stood, pulling Ray along with and supporting him to the trip to the bathroom. Bodies sliding and shifting together, lips never apart for long. Ray went along with it, easily, knowing that Ryan knew how to take care of him in the best possible way. Ryan rested him against the counter, kissing him soundly before turning to turn on the shower. Ray grabbed the tube of toothpaste and squeezed some on his finger, swiping it through his mouth so it felt a little less funky. 

Ryan turned back to catch him in the act, and smiled. The kiss he gave him was deliberately deeper, rubbing his tongue along Ray's, sending shivers down his spine. Bastard knew how to play along.

His shirt was easily taken off, sliding over his head, and Ryan followed the fabric by kissing all along Ray's chest. Ray tilted his head back, fingers sinking into that beautiful hair, following Ryan's progress down, kissing over his ribs and the softness of his stomach. Ryan went all the way down, sinking to his knees and bringing Ray's pajama pants with him. Ray's breath felt strained in the moist air at the sensations, feeling Ryan's lips and scruff in such a tender place. He didn't go straight into a blowjob, just kissing his thighs and dick and driving Ray nuts, like an _asshole._

“Shower,” Ray reminded him, pulling gently on his hair. Ryan looked up at him, eyes so dark and happy at the same time. It was amazing, the way he was looking at him, and Ray wanted that forever.

The big fancy shower was large enough for both of them, and Ryan angled him under the spray first. Ray closed his eyes, letting the wet heat flow over him, slicking back his hair and running down his chest. Ryan made some kind of noise and then his hands were on him again, guiding him back gently until he was against the wall. Then it was back to kissing, Ray melting in Ryan's arms as his hands wandered, bringing sharp jolts of pleasure every time they slid somewhere intimate. 

Ryan parted from his lips long enough to reach back for some soap. Ray stayed loose and languid as Ryan prepped him, breath hitching every so often at the feeling. Ryan was amazing like this, damp and distracted, all his focus on Ray. The look on his face was the one he'd come to associate with these encounters- like he was the only thing that mattered. 

Ray wound his arms around Ryan's neck to hold him close and Ryan worked his leg up for a better angle. His head was filled with clouds--he couldn't focus on anything else if he tried, but that was okay. With Ryan it didn't matter, everything felt good. He took such good care of everything and Ray could relax, take it easy, not even tense up as Ryan slid in. He just kept breathing, just kept kissing, and the thrusts grew steady and built up the fire in his chest and stomach. Ryan's face was against his neck, keeping him as close and tight as he could, keeping him safe, never letting go. 

It seemed to go on forever, just one continual perfect moment. Ray came first, breath hitching in his chest as the sweet feeling washed over him like the best thing in the world. Ryan made to put him down, but Ray kept clinging to him. “Keep going,” he quietly urged. Ryan didn't need that much encouragement, pressing him back to the wall and thrusting firmly. Ray closed his eyes, getting lost in the feelings again. It was so good, after so much misery, and he couldn't keep himself from saying it. 

“Love you.”

Ryan gasped against his neck, jolting in his arms as he came. Ray didn't know what did it, but Ryan only pulled away just enough to kiss him, hard, over and over like he was never going to stop. And Ray didn't want him to stop.

Eventually they had to part, and use the shower for its intended purpose, but there was a lot of gratuitous touching going along with it. Ray rubbed soap across Ryan's chest as he shampooed his hair, and the feeling was almost enough to inspire round two. Eventually they stumbled out, drying off with the luxurious fluffy towels, and went to put a stop to the increased rumbling in Ray's stomach. 

It was still too early, no one else was around, and that was just perfect. Ray parked his ass on the counter, comfy in sweatpants and one of Ryan's hoodies, and watched Ryan dig through the cabinets for supplies. A huge batch of pancake batter was prepped, and Ryan let him dictate how many chocolate chips went into each one. It was so quiet, so peaceful, Ray could almost forget all the shit that had happened to them and imagine it could be like that all the time.

They were both parked on the couch, enjoying round two of pancake goodness and very much not cuddling, when Geoff finally stumbled into the kitchen. He did a double take when he noticed them, sprawled out on the same couch, the Vagabond with his back to him so he could eat with his mask up. Ray wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the sight of them or by the pancakes. 

“Hey buddy,” Geoff finally said. “Feelin better today?”

The Vagabond turned his head slightly, just enough to give Geoff the side-eye. Ray shrugged, all his focus on the pancakes.

“Better than yesterday,” he evaded. He figured, from their reactions, Ryan must have indicated something about his condition during his smoothie run, but not everything. And Geoff wisely didn't press, just went about his business making his own pancakes, which became Gavin's pancakes when the lad joined them a few minutes later. When Michael and Jeremy showed up, and Geoff started bitching about not having a chance to eat yet, the Vagabond stood up from the couch, barging Geoff out of the way and taking over griddle duty.

Ray smiled as he got in line behind a sleepy Jack for his third round. His life was so strange, but so good.

~*~

Geoff invited them along for a heist, to get “warmed back up,” and even though that idea was ridiculous, Ray and the Vagabond agreed. It really was like riding a bicycle, slipping back into the scheme of things, working along with the crew like the experts they were.

It was supposed to be an easy bank robbery, Ray on the roof covering the guys inside, ready to follow on the way out. But then the alarm started going off, making Gavin swear and everyone yell at him for not disabling it. Ray switched positions, jumping to another rooftop to get a better view of the road. He could hear the guys inside scrambling to get a move on, but he wasn't panicking yet. Shit wasn't heading south yet, just kinda ambling in that direction. It was fine. 

Someone made a noise of pain. Even with the sounds of everyone's voices, and the approaching sirens in the background, Ray heard it loud and clear, like it was the only thing in the world. Something stabbed through his gut. Only one person would make that noise.

“What the fuck was that?” Ray demanded. Everything seemed to fade in an instant as icy-cold fear flooded his veins. He knew he wasn't going to get an answer directly but that didn't fucking matter. “Did he just get shot? Geoff? The fuck just happened?!”

“Shit,” Ray heard Geoff swear, and then there was only the sound of running feet. Ray began shooting at the approaching cop cars automatically, his body knowing what to do while his brain was elsewhere. It could only focus on the dark space in the alley where the Vagabond should be. He didn't know ‒ was it already covered with his blood? 

“First Name Last Name Vagabond, you better be fucking alive or I'm gonna fucking kill you!” Ray said bitterly, desperately, straining his ears to hear something. _Anything_.

“Fuck.” That was Geoff. “He's not here, I don't‒”

“ _The fuck does that mean?!_ ” Ray shrieked, barely concealed panic in his voice. He wanted to keep yelling, scream his name over the comms, but that were in a job, things were quickly turning to chaos, they had _rules_ about this, he couldn't fuck it up.

“We don't have time for this!” Jack was right, of course she was, the Vagabond could handle himself, but _God_ it hurt, keeping his brain focused on the task at hand. He wanted to dive off the roof, hunt him down and make sure he was alright, but the cops came screeching around the corner and he had to focus on saving his own life. 

“Fuck this shit,” Geoff growled over the line. “We’re out, this isn't happening, grab what you can and run.”

“What about the Vagabond?!” Ray didn't bother pretending he wasn't freaking out. He couldn't _leave_ , couldn't leave him behind to deal with the cops and whoever had gotten the drop on him, God what if he was already gone, what if the cops had him or he was dead in an alley somewhere‒

“Ray we can't do shit right now, we can't deal with all these fucking cops and everything here.” Jack was the voice of reason, cutting over the chaos. “We can get him later, we're not gonna give up on him but we gotta get out of here. He wouldn't want you to risk yourself over him.”

Jack didn't know shit, but she had a point. Ray reluctantly hauled ass with the crew, pushed along by the lads to keep him from deviating to the alley, keeping an eye out for that jacket and indiscriminately shooting any cop in the way. It was hard to see, hard to breathe, and Jeremy had to physically shove him in the escape vehicle because he couldn't bring himself to leave. He felt like he was being torn in half, his heart and brain and a good chunk of his stomach off panicking over the Vagabond, while the rest of his body was steadily growing numb. Without Ryan, it wasn't worth giving a fuck about running from the cops, wasn't worth doing anything besides going to get him, and he couldn't do that so he couldn't do anything.

Ray stumbled into the safe house with them, trying to get his brain back on track. The crew was talking all around him but he couldn't listen, nearly falling into the sofa distractedly. If they could just shut up he could get his shit figured out and go after him, get him back and fuck up whoever fucking got him‒

“Hey.” Someone tried to pull the sniper off his back and Ray flailed angrily, glaring at Geoff. “Simmer down, Ray, just hold tight for now.”

“No!” Fuck that shit. “We gotta go after him, we shouldn't have left in the first place‒”

“There are cops _everywhere_!” Geoff was looking over him, giving him the full blast of his boss voice. “We just need to wait for it to die down, then we can go looking for him.”

“What if he's already dead?” Ray could barely say it, didn't even want to think it. He couldn't sit still, shooting back to his feet and starting to pace. “What if we left him behind while we ran away? You think he'd be okay with that, you think he's not gonna come back here five flavors of pissed off if he isn't? Or if he is, and I let him bleed out because I didn't go help him, how the fuck am I supposed to sit here and _wait_?!” 

Ray knew he wasn't making sense, and there was a serious danger of tears leaking out from under the mask, and they were all looking at him way too closely not to see it, but then everyone jumped when the door slammed open. Ray turned with them, heart in his throat, and almost melted with relief. It was the Vagabond. 

He was covered in blood, still dripping with it, standing a little awkwardly with one arm tucked in close, but he was upright, and breathing, and that was all that mattered. Ray almost felt sick as all the fear drained to his toes, leaving nothing but stupid blinding joy at the sight of him. He wanted to rush over, wrap him in a hug and never let go, but they still had company.

“Jesus, man.” Geoff spoke first, disbelief heavy in his voice. “What's the other guy look like?”

The Vagabond's shoulders hitched in his version of a laugh, but it obviously wasn’t that funny. His eyes had immediately settled on Ray, dark with exhaustion, but Ray could see the relief there. He was very familiar with that look. That was the look of knowing the job was done, and he was safe again. But damn, he looked like shit.

Instead of answering, the Vagabond stopped by the table, pulling out several bloody knives and a handgun with one hand from the depth of the the jacket's pockets and setting them aside. Everyone watched the display silently, staring at the pile of weapons, until he pulled out his phone. He typed something carefully and held it out to Ray.

“‘That was the guy who put the hit out on us. He’s been taken care of,’” Ray read off for the crew's benefit. “Cool, nice job,” he told him, trying to keep casual when every thought in his body was to reach out and touch him, make sure he was real. 

“Shit,” Geoff whispered, sounding darkly impressed. “I'm sorry man, I thought he was on the east coast, I swear we checked before I texted you‒”

The Vagabond cut him off with a shake of his head. Ray could guess the look on his face, tired and not in the mood for any particular bullshit, but Geoff didn't get it, he still looked worried as he stood and moved towards the Vagabond's injured side.

“That looks bad, you should really get that looked at‒”

In a heartbeat, the Vagabond's free hand snatched up a knife and had it to Geoff's throat. It was more instinct than deliberate, but that didn’t stop the rest of the crew from reacting with alarm.

Everyone except Ray, who had seen that coming. Lazily he reached out and pushed the Vagabond's arm down. “Chill out, buddy, okay?” he said calmly. In reality he was almost as alarmed as everyone else, especially Geoff with his wide-eyed fear, but he knew how to diffuse him. “Go start getting cleaned up, you're dripping blood everywhere.”

Without blinking, the Vagabond followed his instructions, keeping his knife in hand. Ray waited, giving him a head start and shooting Geoff an apologetic look. 

“Don't take it personally, man. He does the knife thing on everyone.”

Geoff looked more shocked than pissed, but Jack almost looked disappointed, as well as worried when Ray began heading toward the bathroom. “Dude, are you sure you should go in there?” she asked, concern heavy in her voice. 

In spite of everything, Ray snorted. He knew why they were, but did the still feel they had to worry about him, after all they'd been through? “Look, I'm used to the knifey-knifey stabby-stabby, okay? He hasn't got me yet, he ain't gonna.”

Ignoring the rush of voices trying to stop him, Ray walked over to the bathroom and banged once on the door. “Hope you're decent, I'm coming in.” There was no answer, obviously, so Ray just barged in, still deliberately not paying attention to the concerned faces of the crew. Not like he needed it.

The Vagabond wasn't decent at all. He was half-leaning against the counter, obviously waiting for him. He'd gotten out of the jacket and shirt, somehow, using a bloody wad of fabric pressed to his upper chest to keep the blood in, but he still had the mask. Of course, the other guy had already angled himself so he couldn't be seen from the other room, but there was no such thing as too much caution for him. His eyes were in full murder-glare mode, but as soon as Ray closed the door, it faded. 

Ray didn't waste more time with words. He crossed the room to the Vagabond, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist, in case anything else was hurt. The Vagabond awkwardly wrapped his unhurt arm around his shoulders, squeezing him back. It was so good, a relief after hours of worry, but there was still tension in the Vagabond’s body. Ray craned his head up from it's resting place against his chest, meeting his eyes through the mask.

“You okay?” Of course he wasn't really, but Ray wasn't asking about the physical hurt, and the Vagabond knew it. He shook his head, and Ray bit his lip. He was in no place to make guesses about what this particular fucked-up issue was. He just had to help make it tolerable, however he could.

“‘Kay,” Ray breathed, pulling back to look at the bloody mess under the Vagabond’s collarbone. If he had to guess, he'd say gunshot, and in just the right spot, considering. An inch to either side and it would have shattered bone and fucked up a lot more shit. “You wanna…you want me to take care of this?” He wasn't sure, but he knew the Vagabond could have taken care of it on his own, so that had to be why he’d waited. 

The Vagabond nodded, then, weirdly, lowered his head. Ray stared at him for a second, confused, before realization smacked him over the head. Holy shit. He wanted Ray to take the mask off.

That was…weirdly intimate. Ray couldn't figure it out, even as he carefully put his hands on the edges to pull it off. Like, he'd seen the Vagabond with it on or off plenty of times (seen him take it off one-handed before) but this was the first time he'd had Ray take it off. Did it mean something, or was he just being lazy?

Whatever it was, Ray tried to look casual as he slipped it over the Vagabond’s head, like he did it every day. Ryan's face appeared, looking tired and relieved and tense all at the same time, which just made him look sick. Ray smiled reassuringly as he set the mask aside. It was probably safe, he didn't think Geoff would have cameras in the bathroom, but if he did he'd tear him a new one for a whole different reason.

Ryan finally let him go so he could sit on the edge of the tub that could easily fit both of them. Ray pushed the possibility from his mind and went over to the medical kit someone left on the counter. ER grade stuff, just like he expected. He didn't think Ryan would tolerate going to Andy's clinic in his current state. 

When Ray turned around, he found Ryan's eyes on him, almost looking scared. God, if that didn't feel like a punch in the gut. He remembered how Ryan had been while Ray's burn was being patched up, and the time Ray had fixed his back when they barely even knew each other. Poor guy clearly had hang-ups about getting fixed up, so this was probably close to torture for him.

Ray approached hesitantly. He really fucking didn't want to do this. “I'm sorry I didn't come after you,” he said quietly. “The crew needed to get out of there, I wanted to wait for you but‒”

Ryan stopped him with a soft shushing sound and gently putting his hand over his mouth. Thank God, it looked like he had washed it before Ray had entered the room. Ray knew he was forgiven, but God did it _still hurt_ , and seeing Ryan in this state wasn't helping. He knew it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference, but he wanted to go back, find a way to get him out safe and unharmed. But all he could do was fix him up.

Ray started with disinfecting, pouring the whole bottle of rubbing alcohol over his shoulder. Ryan hissed, but didn't otherwise react. He was holding himself so tight Ray was surprised he hadn't fallen over, and was staring very determinedly over Ray’s head. His chest was rising with very deliberately deep breaths, like that was where his entire focus was. His hand was clenching the fabric of his pants for dear life, even as the alcohol dripped down his arm and soaked the fabric.

So…he didn't like getting patched up. That was obvious. And Ray was damn sure there was a good reason he wasn't privy to, so he tried to be quick as he pulled the makeshift bandages off and set them aside. The less Ryan had the suffer the better. The wound was red and raw and he almost felt queasy looking at it. He quickly pressed fresh sterile gauze to the wound, putting almost uncomfortable pressure on the injury. 

“Any numbness? Trouble moving it?” Ryan shook his head no, releasing his hold on his pants to hold his arm out, curling his fingers and touching each finger with his thumb. Good enough. At least they wouldn't have to worry about anything else being messed up. But the bleeding was an issue. Ryan really didn't need to lose any more blood.

Ray ducked slightly so he was eye level with the wound, giving it a quick look when he pulled back the gauze. “Probably should get that shit out of there,” he offered as more blood gushed out. Ryan nodded, bringing a new swoop of fear to his stomach. He was totally unprepared for bathroom surgery, but fuck it, Ryan had done the same for him before. He could man up and do the same. 

Ryan obligingly held the bandage in place as Ray got up, looking for something to stick in his shoulder. There was some kind of file with a pick on the end resting on the counter, and after a quick rifle through the med kit, Ray decided it would work. It wasn't ideal, but nothing they were doing would make any doctor happy. Ray sterilized it with more alcohol and turned back to Ryan, who took one look and gave Ray and alarmed face.

“Look, it's what I got, unless you think Geoff has something better‒” Ryan rolled his eyes and shrugged, and Ray had to agree, they didn't need to drag Geoff into their shit any more than they needed to. Ryan held very still as Ray moved the bandage and probed carefully into the bloody mess, swearing under his breath every time he touched something that wasn't metal. Fuck his life, he didn't want to be doing this, Ryan kept wincing and he was probably just making everything worse‒

A muffled click accompanied the file hitting ungiving mass. Ray tapped it a bit, finding the edge, getting the file between the bullet and Ryan's flesh. “Okay,” he whispered, reaching behind him for the delicate pliers he knew he'd set on the counter. “Please don't kill me for this.”

Ryan breathed deeply as Ray carefully stuck the tool in his shoulder, prying out the bullet with as much gentleness as he could manage. He let it fall to the floor to press the bandage back to his shoulder, holding it there as hard as he could. This close, he could smell the sweat and blood on Ryan, but he didn't back off. His buddy was still looking too alarmed to do anything else himself, that wide-eyed and hunted look that Ray would do _anything_ to get rid of.

Ray leaned forward, resting his forehead against his. “Listen to me,” he said softly, evenly. “You're here, and you're okay. No one's gonna mess with you here, not with me around. I've got you, I promise I'm never gonna leave you. You're the best thing in my life and I'm never, _ever_ gonna let anyone take you from me.”

Ryan sighed, breath over Ray's face. His eyes were focused back on him, half-lidded and intense. Ray shifted his numb fingers on the bandage and leaned close to kiss him, very very gently. 

“I'm not leaving. I promise.”

~*~

Ray rolled over and sighed. The other side of the bed was empty, again. It was the fifth time he'd woken up cold and alone in bed in just a week, and it wasn't because Ryan was making him pancakes. It also definitely wasn't Ryan's usual paranoid insomnia, which had indeed started picking up again after their vacation, because when that hit he just stayed in bed and cuddled. Something else was seriously bothering him. 

It didn't seem to be a job, but he was constantly looking at his laptop with a bad frown on his face. He wasn't exactly being secretive, but he definitely wasn't sharing. Which wasn't exactly the norm anyway, but it was different, and not in a good way.

Ray tried not to take it personally. He wasn't so full of it to think he was the center of Ryan's world. The guy still had secrets ‒ like, a fuck-ton. They weren't some lovey-dovey couple who spilled everything about themselves until there was nothing left to talk about. That shit just didn't work in their life.

So he told the feeling of inadequacy to fuck off, like a proper adult. And that actually worked for a while. He played the supportive boyfriend role, doing the shit Ryan normally did so he could focus on whatever the issue was. He didn't ask, because if it was his business then Ryan would just tell him. But now Ryan was losing sleep, and Ray was losing cuddles, and that was fucking unacceptable. 

Ray sat up, slapping his glasses on his face and located Ryan by the bright light of the laptop. He was sitting on the uncomfortable chair by the shitty little table the hotel room provided, not in bed next to him. Nope, not acceptable. Struggling free from the blankets, Ray got up and approached him from behind. He saw Ryan's finger move on the pad, and sure enough, when he was close enough to drape his arms around his shoulders, the screen was innocently blank.

Ray's insides did a flip of worry. Since when had Ryan felt the need to hide his stuff? It was like they were back in the apartment, but in a bad way, when they didn't know what to expect from the other. He'd thought that he'd been doing the right thing by not making a big deal of it ‒ but maybe he was wrong.

The old Ray would never have asked, but current Ray was fed up. “What's goin on, Mopey McMopester?” he asked, lips brushing the back of Ryan's neck. Fuck, what if that hadn't been right, what if Ryan didn't want shit to do with him anymore and this was him finally wanting to go their separate ways? Ryan was leaning back in his arms, one hand coming up to hold his, but Ray could only focus on the cold hard feeling of dread.

The message Ryan typed with one hand was exactly what he was expecting. **How would you feel if I do a job on my own?**

Ray’s first instinct was to play it off like it was no big deal…except it was. And the asshole was always telling him to say what was bothering him, so… “I'd kinda feel like shit,” he admitted, closing his eyes against the lump in his throat. “And I'd wonder why.”

Ryan sighed so heavily his shoulders slumped. He turned in his chair, and Ray immediately dropped his arms, ready to back away and give him space. Instead Ryan's arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close so he could bury his face in his stomach. Ray waited, not sure what to do, but a firm squeeze encouraged him. He let his hands drop to play with Ryan's hair, running through them over and over. He could feel the tension in Ryan's body, even as he moaned at the feeling. He was holding him closer than usual, arms a tight band against his ribs, like he never wanted to let go. 

Ray stared at the laptop, at the hidden thing he would normally never ask about, but it was Ryan, and he was miserable, and he was always there to face Ray's misery when it popped up so he had to do the same. “Can you please talk to me about this?” It wasn't begging, not really, but he still felt really unhappy asking.

Ryan sighed into his stomach. Ray waited, not stopping his fingers running through his hair as Ryan thought. It was agony waiting, but almost as bad as when Ryan pulled away to type his answer. But the answer wasn't exactly what he expected. 

**It's a shit job. A really shit one. And I don't want you dragged into it**

“What's so bad about it?” Ray asked, stepping closer. Ryan's other hand was still resting against his back, fisted in the fabric of his shirt. _He really doesn't want to go_ , Ray realized dimly. His hand rubbed along Ryan's shoulder, trying to soothe. It had to be something really bad, something he was trying to spare him. Why would he take a job he didn't want to do and not tell Ray about unless…

Oh.

“Is it personal shit?” he asked quietly. “Like, really personal?” Ryan closed his eyes and nodded. Well fuck, that was serious then. 

Ray thought it over, shoving the negative thoughts firmly away. It was Ryan's shit, and he clearly didn't want to deal with it even if he was going to. He got that. And Ryan wanted Ray out of it, which he got as well, in a weird fucked up way. His issues outside of what they did together were his own. It would be shit of Ray to not support him in that, when he already put up with so much of Ray's shit.

“Promise you'll come back for me?” There was too much vulnerability in his voice. Ryan's head jerked up, finally looking Ray in the eye. Ray didn't flinch, not even when Ryan abruptly stood and grabbed him into an even tighter hug. Ray buried his face in his chest, trying not to start crying at the feeling, the warm comfort and the solid strength he could feel from Ryan. Against the top of his head, he could feel Ryan shaking his head, over and over.

He wasn't leaving him.

Ryan steered him backwards, so Ray collapsed on the bed, pulling Ryan with him. Ray closed his eyes as Ryan cuddled close. He was there, so warm and solid over him, exactly what he always needed. Ryan tucked his face into Ray's shoulder, taking comfort as much as he was giving it. It felt so good to have it again.

Ryan kept up the cuddling, even as he typed on his phone. **Sorry I've been distant over this. I know what I have to do and I've been putting it off for too long, but it really fucking sucks and I have to finish it up.**

“I get it,” Ray assured him. “As long as you kick ass and come back for me in one piece.” He felt better, even if he didn't like the circumstances. It would be just like the old days, when he stayed in bed and waited for him to come back. But the idea didn't feel as great as it used to. He couldn't stand the idea of being alone.

Ray nudged Ryan, so he lifted his head to look at him.

“I have an idea about what I'm gonna do while you're gone.”

~*~

It felt weird to drive across the country without anyone to make snarky comments to. Ray drove as fast as he could get away with, playing his music as loud as he could, like he could outrun his thoughts. They weren't bad, exactly, just annoying and anxiety-inducing, which didn't make driving any more fun.

Every time he stopped to stretch his legs or take a break, he sent a selfie to Ryan. He had promised to keep Ray updated, not with specifics, but any indication the job would be over soon. Ray hadn't expected anything in return, but it was nice to find three selfies in return waiting for him when he stopped for the night.

He reached Los Santos in record time. Ray ditched the shitmobile a few blocks from the tower and ambled over, letting his eyes linger on the familiar sights of the city. It was good to be back and not be worried about imminent death. There were new storefronts, everything looked cleaner. Geoff must be a good influence on the city.

Ray grinned to himself as he entered the tower through the private access and punched the elevator code. He hadn't sent any texts or notice that he was coming, but he was sure Geoff would welcome him with open arms. Probably. 

It took a good minute, since Ray was sure Geoff was checking the security feeds to make sure it really was Ray's stupid ass standing in his lobby. But the elevator finally dinged, letting him in. Ray plastered his shit-eating grin on his face, and Geoff met him at the door, looking confused even as he smiled at Ray. 

“Brownman!” Gavin crowed from the couch before Geoff could say anythingi. Ray grinned and shoved passed Geoff, dumping his bags in a pile by the door. 

“Hey guys!” he yelled to the group as a whole while dashing at the couch. He hurled himself over the back, crashing onto Michael and Jeremy’s laps. His feet made contact with Gavin's chest, knocking the controller out of his hand. 

“You dick!” Michael snapped, but he was already laughing, trying to shove him off while Gavin tried to climb over him to get his controller. Jeremy grunted when he got a knee in the stomach, and scrambled to hit him back. Ray defended himself by pushing back against Michael, using his feet to keep Jeremy away. But them Gavin tried to get him back by punching his leg, so he kept kicking, laughing when Michael finally pushed him off and they all crashed to the floor.

“Uhh...” Ray, from the middle of the mess of bodies, looked up and over at Geoff, who was still standing by the open door. “Where's the Vagabond?”

“Don't know,” Ray answered honestly while grabbing the spare controller. He very carefully ignored the worried looks Geoff and Jack gave each other. The Lads were too preoccupied fighting over the controllers to notice. 

“Is he not coming?” Geoff asked firmly. He planted himself in front of the screen so they had to pay attention to him, a worried frown on his face. Ray shrugged nonchalantly, like he didn't care.

“He's got his own job right now. Don't know when he'll be done.” 

“And he didn't bring you? 

“Obviously,” Ray answered nonchalantly. He knew what they were thinking, because that's what Ryan wanted them to think, so he wasn't worried. That was why Ryan had so readily agreed with him crashing with the Fakes, besides the security of staying with people they sorta-trusted and were sorta friends. It would just be another way to make them think they weren't as close as they really were. Ray just had to play his usual indifferent part. Easy.

Ray could tell Geoff wanted to ask more, but Michael reached out and tried swiping at him. “Get the fuck out of the way, Geoff, we need Ray to help us kill Jeremy.”

“No, you don't,” Jeremy insisted, already piloting his character away from them. “You don't need to do that.”

Ray laughed along with Michael and Gavin and joined the game. It was good, it was fun, and Jack took his bags to his room without even asking. There was some whispered talk between her and Geoff, because of course there was. It was almost nice having someone besides Ryan worried about him. Almost like they cared.

~*~

“So seriously.” Ray looked up, taco trimmings spilling out of his mouth, to see Jack giving him a serious look. “Where the hell is the Vagabond?” 

“Seriously, not a damn clue.” That was the truth, the real honest truth, but it didn't look like they believed him. Geoff and Jack were still giving each other significant looks, and even Gavin was paying attention now. “What do you care? It's not like he can't handle himself.”

“Just that we've never seen you two apart before,” Geoff answered. “Thought you were a team or somethin.” There was something too calculating in his eye that Ray quickly shot down.

“That's cause you always hire us together. We do separate jobs all the time.” Ray tried to keep chill, and not squirm under the attention. He hated this probing shit, it was really not fun.

“But I thought you two were together?” Jeremy made a pained face immediately after asking, and if that thump meant anything, someone had kicked his leg under the table. Ray swallowed hard and focused on his taco. Shit. He wasn't ready for that question. He hadn't thought they'd be bold enough to ask about it outright.

“Just cause I'm the only person who can stand him doesn't mean we're together or anything.” His voice was low, and Ray quickly stuffed the taco in his face. Shit, that had sounded almost like longing, now Geoff and Jack's looks were really saying something. Even Michael and Gavin looked like they were thinking the same thing. “And he doesn't ask me stupid questions.” Nailed it.

Thank God, they dropped it, clearly seeing how uncomfortable he was. Gavin made up some stupid hypothetical question, which led to Michael cussing him out, which led to more jokes and different topics. If there was one thing Ray could depend on, it was them never sticking to one topic for long.

Going to bed alone wasn't easy. Ray fought the urge to cross the hall to Ryan's room, because he knew it would be empty anyway. He burritoed the blankets around himself, positioned a pillow at his back, and pulled out his phone.

**The crew things we broke up or something**

Ray waited. Finally, the blue dots appeared, followed quickly by the message. It was just a laughing face emoji.

~*~

Ray was right in the middle of an intense game of Tetris when Jack took a seat next to him. Ray ignored her, eyes glued to the screen and the dropping geometry. But her eyes were like lasers, worse than Ryan's, like they were trying to bore into his brain. Except unlike Ryan, he really didn't appreciate it.

“Can I help you?” he finally asked, letting the annoyance in his voice show. Jack sighed.

“Just wanted to see how you're doing.” 

“I'm doing great, except you're messing with my concentration.” Ray quickly redirected a T-shape into its spot.

“You call moping around our apartment great?” Jack asked sarcastically. “You have some low standards.”

“You don't even know,” Ray shot back. Seriously, compared to his other apartment moping, this was nothing. He’d gotten out of bed, after all, and even though he was currently playing solo he'd also played a lot of games with the lads and the rest of the crew as a whole. Geoff was even planning a heist for them in the next few days, which promised to be fun. 

He’d done his best to hide the misery of being away from Ryan, and how much sleeping alone sucked, but fucking Jack was too perceptive. She was giving him a sympathetic look, which made him want to squirm like he was doing something wrong.

“You miss him.”

Ray finally paused the game to give her a look. He hadn't been expecting her to come right out and say it.

“Why would I miss him?” he lied. “He's not exactly Captain Conversation, he's constantly picking fights and getting shot at‒ honestly it's barely even worth working with him‒”

“Then why do you?” Jack cut him off.

“So I don't have to worry about whether he's gonna pop up out of nowhere and stab my ass.” Ray pulled from his first concern from when they first started working together, just flipped to hide how he actually wanted death at his hands. Geoff had worried about the same thing, so it made sense.

“I think I've seen enough of you two to know that's not exactly why.” Jack wasn't buying it. Ray sighed, trying to think of an excuse that wouldn't tell too much, but would also get her off his back. But he couldn't come up with anything before she spoke again. 

“Look,” Jack said gently. “I know what it's like to keep secrets you can't ever say. I was in the military for four years, couldn't tell anyone how I really felt or even let myself look the way I wanted. It sucked. Believe me, I know how much it sucks to hide something that big.” Her hand gently rested on his shoulder.

“When I met Geoff, I was so worried about telling him I was a woman. Big burly guy like me, how would he feel if I told him I really just wanted to have my outsides match how I really felt? But after I told him, our first job together was to get me estrogen. The next went to my top surgery. He stuck with me, always right with me, and that helped me become my best self. And that's what we want for you too, buddy. You just have to know how to trust.”

Fuck. Ray sniffed, feeling stupidly touched. He knew, if the whole situation was actually real, he would either be pissed or take her up on it. Fuck, if he and Ryan hadn't finally gotten to the good stuff at this point, he probably would have. And he would have been grateful.

But it was their shit, not hers. He shrugged, trying to knock her hand off his shoulder. “And how do I know you won't turn around and stab me in the back?” he asked roughly.

“God, I thought we were past that.” Jack did move her arm, but only to rub her hand over her face. “You wouldn't’ve come here if you didn't trust us. I know you're really waiting for him to come back. You haven't said anything about legit joining up with us‒ and by the way, if you don't soon Geoff's gonna ask you.” Ray tried to hide his shock, but Jack continued. “Just so you know, you have a place here if things go badly between you two. If you ever decide to tell him. I know you probably think it won't turn out, but you might be surprised. I think he actually likes you.”

 _You don't even know, lady_ Ray thought to himself. He sighed again, staring down at the controller in his hands. He wanted to tell her, like legitimately, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. 

“I'll think about it, okay?” he said instead. It wasn't a lie, he would think about stuff, just probably not what she was thinking. Jack nodded, them punched his shoulder to improve the mood. Ray shoved her away and she went, chuckling to herself. Ray waited until her footsteps went away before pulling out his phone.

 **Jack think I should confess my gigantic crush on you**

Ray waited, staring at the screen but not really seeing it. Finally the return text popped on the screen.

**OMG you have a crush on me~~~~ <3**

Ray laughed helplessly, clutching his ribs at the fit of giggles. That was pure Ryan right there. 

~*~

**LAST DAY!!!!!**

Fuck yes. Ray grinned at the enthusiastic text that greeted him when he woke up in the middle of the day. **r u done yet?** he sent back.

He didn't get an answer right away, so he was showered and dressed, every movement hurried with all his mental attention on his phone. When he was done he checked again, and was happy to see a response. 

**Done this afternoon. Will be on the road tonight**

The giddy feeling welled up in Ray, making him tip-toe dance in place with a big stupid grin on his face. Ryan was coming back, the fucking stupid job was over and he was coming back for him, and Ray couldn't wait to hug him and fuck until they couldn't walk. Fuck, if it was late enough he could sneak him into the apartment without the crew noticing. Maybe bang him, maybe just cuddle until the absence didn't hurt as much, then they could make breakfast first thing in the morning and surprise everyone with the sudden appearance of the Vagabond.

“What's got you in a good mood?” Jack asked suspiciously after he made his way to the kitchen. She leaned in close, peering at his face. Ray tried to tramp down on the grin.

“Just, you know, happy to be alive and shit,” Ray answered. That worked, apparently, or it was enough of a dismissive answer that she didn't feel like going into it. She shrugged and went back to whatever she was doing on her phone. Ray scrounged himself a couple of slices of pizza, joining Geoff and Jeremy on the couch. They were playing some kind of game, and Ray let himself be lost in their commentary, enjoying the company and the pizza. Ryan was coming back soon. Everything was good.

“No.”

The shock in Jack’s voice had all of their heads whipping over to her. She was staring at her phone, face a mask of horror. She swiped frantically at the screen, over and over, eyes growing wider and wider, before raising her head to meet their gaze. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

“It's...it’s the Vagabond,” she whispered. “They got him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


End file.
